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“Rommond placed his gun upon the table like a writer places an exclamation point at the end of a sentence. There was a hint of finality about the gesture, like an announcement that this was the end of the debate. Taberah must've recognised it, for she didn't sustain her verbal assault. She turned and left, and if silence was her shield, it was also her weapon, leaving a sting behind in the quiet air.”

“They dived into the ocean of shadow and smog, adding to it with the fumes of their own aircraft. The goggles were useless now, but Jacob kept them on, in case there might be some break in the murky pool. It was fitting that the Worldwaker had passed through there, with the shark emblem painted on brightly. In those deep waters it could not be seen. It almost felt like it had lured them in. The dolphins do not hunt the sharks.”

“When writing, there are some scenes that are emotionally overwhelming. They completely overcome the author, and only when they do this can they cause a similar reaction in the reader. Through this, the author gets to experience multiple lives. If a character's life flashes before their eyes, it flashes before the author's eyes too, and he or she remembers it as his or her own. With reading, we get to live other lives vicariously, and this is doubly so with writing. It is like a lucid dream, where we guide the outcome. In this, we don't merely write *about* a character -- we momentarily *become* them, and walk as they walk, think as they think, and do as they do. When we return to our own life, we might return a little shaken, likely a little stronger, hopefully a little wiser. What is certain is that we return better, because experiencing the lives of others makes us understand their aims and dreams, their fears and foils, the challenges and difficulties, and joys and triumphs, that they face. It helps us grow and empathise, and see all the little pictures that make up the bigger one we see from the omniscience of the narrator.”

“Stories serve multiple purposes. At a basic level they are great entertainment, which is essential for living a happy and healthy life, but on a deeper level stories help us explore issues that are otherwise difficult to address. On one hand a good book helps us escape our troubles, and on the other hand it can help us face up to those troubles by bringing real issues to the fore, often in a more manageable way, since the problems are experienced vicariously through the eyes of another.”

“Something bashed against the submarine with such a tremendous force that the vessel rocked violently from side to side, throwing people back and forth. Jacob and Whistler weren't ready for the first of these, and they earned bruises as their medals, but the second time the creature shook the ship, they clung to pipes that rattled in their holdings, as if they themselves feared the larger beast that came to feast upon them all.”

“She looked at her right hand, where the index finger was cut to a stump. Some said she lost it in an accident, when she was playing soldier with a live grenade. Others said she was taught a lesson by the law, and they took her trigger finger to make her keep on learning. Those were the lessons the Coilhunter liked. Why, he was quite the teacher himself.”

“From this vantage point, Jacob noticed the distinctive emblem of the Resistance on a patch sewn onto the right shoulder of Rommond’s uniform. It showed a white equilateral triangle with two lines horizontally through it, all upon a royal blue field. What it meant was the subject of some discussion, but some thought it represented an uprising that pierced the ceiling of Hell and the floor of Heaven, as if to say they would resist not only the Devil, but God too.”

“And it was to the bottom that the vessel now plunged, into the waters that were blacker than any black on land, into a gloom that was more consuming than the deepest night. Were the crew not focused on their frenzied work to stop the steep descent, they might've glanced out one of the many round windows, and they might've thought that they were looking into the black iris of an evil creature—and they might've been right.”

“Something pressed against the window, nudging the submarine. Its hide was almost as dark as the waters around it, but its scales glistened from the light inside the room. Jacob badly wanted to douse the oil lamp, to hide inside a different darkness, but he had a feeling that any change inside the room, any step, any dimming of a light, any sound, might be like a beacon to the beast outside.”