These two from the second novella, The Lees of Laughter’s End.
Oh yes, my darling daughter, the night begins! Many are the terrible secrets of Laughter’s End, an’ could we fly wi’ wings of black now’s the time to leave the nest, derie! But who in this world can flee their terrors? Hands o’er the eyes, ye see, and voices t’drown out all sordid griefs, an’ the mind has wings of its own, aye so beware the final flight! Into the abyss wi’ all flesh left behind!
The stars swirled strange overhead and the Suncurl wallowed as if the wind had gasped its last. Black waves licked the hull.
But we are safe, darling, ‘ere above the squalid fates. Like queens we are. Goddesses!
‘Them nails, Master?’
A sharp nod. ‘It is never advisable to loose the spirits of the dead, to wrest them from their places of rest.’
‘It’s kind of comforting to think that there are such things as places of rest, Master.’
‘Oh, I apologize, Mister Reese. Such places do not exist, not even for the dead. I was being lazy in my use of cliche. Rather, to be correct, their places of eternal imprisonment.’