Heavy hearts, heavy eyelids,” said the master of the caravan.”Huh?” Heather looked up in dismay, shocked to find she’d nearly been left behind as the caravan prepared to move on. Her last night’s sleep had...

Either you are born with wisdom, my lord, or you make dowithout it…

That fact makes me feel like one of God’s most insignificant creatures.

And who else could I be?

I can manage the regret, if not my own finances.

One cannot hang for attacking a piece of cloth.

You are unlikely to abscond with the silver,” Pickles drawled.

Misery makes no distinction between prince and pauper.

I suppose my forcefulness will improve once my voice changes. Sopranos get no respect.