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She narrowed her eyes. “What is our heart’s desire?” “Vengeance.” His voice was soft, as if he were afraid that someone might be listening. “Justice.” Prince Doran pressed the onyx dragon into her palm with his swollen, gouty fingers, and whispered, “Fire and blood.
— George R. R. Martin
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So, you're worried that a pink dragon will fly over the concent and fart nerve gas on us?
— Neal Stephenson
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