"When his wife died it was not from sickness either. She just looked at him in bed one early morning, her cheeks as ruddy as the hour when he first kissed them, and said, 'I'm tired.' Whereupon she turned her back to him, as if in sleep, and died. The soft breeze of spring winnowing through her hair was like human breath, but it came from T'ien, the Mandate of Heaven. He never forgave himself for not having recognized the proximity of her immortality and realized then that it was not enough to have mastered the art of diagnosing death." pg155
"And as he searched the riddles of a thousand sandstorms, he also realized that he would never be able to save his people from the poison of his dream unless he overcame his fear. Fear's antidote lay somewhere in the region of trust. But where was that?" pg155
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