Max Gladstone

They bring daughters of earth back down to the land of death—but death does not claim them.

Even poetry, which breaks language into meaning—poetry ossifies, in time, the way trees do.

To you.
PS. Yes, you.

When Red wins, she stands alone.

He never had a chance. That is the point of Red.

Twice is coincidence. Three times is enemy action.

Red likes to feel. It is a fetish. Now she feels fear. And eagerness.

The runner enjoys running when she need not flee a lion.

Island saving’s not a one-woman job, so she works harder than one woman can.

Briefly she wonders if the hardness in her throat is poison, her inability to swallow around it anaphylactic. This does not frighten her.