A biography for Patrick W. Carrhasn’t been written yet.
“A figure stood at the far end, cloaked in black and beckoning him.”
“He pulled his hand back, aware now that sweat beaded on his forehead and that Rale watched him, his eyes dark, intense. Errol licked his lips. Did he want a drink? He hadn't gone more than two days in a row without a drink since he was...since...Warrel...the quarry...stone.”
“Some men are more easily broken by kindness than censure.”
“A picture of the world, nothing more than a casting stone set in the heavens, intruded on Errol's dismay. World without end. Was Illustra, their entire world, nothing more than a lot for the ultimate reader, too small and insignificant a thing to care about?”
“Her mouth set. "I've already lost one man I loved tonight. I will not lose the other." She glared at him. "And curse you, you stone head, for making me say it first.”