Amelia

“Anger is a fine weapon, Diviner,” she said, quiet enough so the others wouldn’t hear. “So long as you don’t point it at yourself. Now have some soup.”
― Rachel Gillig, The Knight and the Moth

“I washed the Divining robes this morning." The gargoyle led me down the nave. On the final pew, six silk robes waited. "It was an abundant chore. I am within myself with fatigue."

"Beside," I murmured, peeling off my clothes. " 'Beside myself with fatigue' is the proper expression."

The gargoyle's stone brow knit. "If I were beside myself, there would be two of me, and the washing would have taken half the time.”
― Rachel Gillig, The Knight and the Moth

“Once, there was a foundling boy who didn’t believe in anything. He grew up, became a worldly knight, and still he struggled to believe. He bore hardly any hope, and a mountain of disdain. And that should have been the end.” He took my hand, squeezed it, tightening my hold on my hammer. “But then he came to a cathedral upon a tor, and met a woman there. And all the tales he’d troubled himself with about cruelty, about unfairness and godlessness… he started to forget. He was afforded another chance, as if by magic, to believe in something. He’d never be a very good knight, but every time he looked at the woman, he had the distinct faith”—his eyes roved my face—“that things could be better than they’d been.”
― Rachel Gillig, The Knight and the Moth

“Am I all that you imagined?” I said, looking down at her. “Or am I so much more?”
― Rachel Gillig, The Knight and the Moth