Wayne’s a little attached to that hat,” Waxillium said. “He thinks it’s lucky.” Wayne: “It is lucky. I ain’t never died while wearing that hat.” Marasi frowned. “I … I’m not sure I know how to respond.” Wax: “That’s a common reaction to Wayne.
Those seemed to become figures, crafted by the bones and branches stretching from the heaps on the ground. Bodies and souls. His movement made the shadows twist, as if turning to regard him.
…Generally people don’t recomend this type of book at all. It is far too interesting. Perhaps you have had other books recomended to you. Perhaps, even, you have been given books by friends, parents, teachers, then told that these books are the type you have to read.
Yet she was beginning to think that she– along with others– had taken this belief too far, letting her desire to seem humble become a form of pride itself. She now saw that when her faith had become about clothing instead of people, it had taken a wrong turn.
