“To travel like that, with a woman who is neither my kin nor my wife…” “Then what if we were married?” I sometimes imagine there is a clerk behind a desk situated between the brain and the mouth. It is his job to examine utterances on their way out, and stamp them with approval or send them back for reconsideration. If such a clerk exists, mine must be very harried and overworked; and on occasion he puts his head down on the desk in despair, letting things pass without so much as a second glance.”
―
Marie Brennan,
In the Labyrinth of Drakes