That is Lord Foul's way in all things$$$ to force his foes to become that which they most hate$$$ and to destroy that which they most love.

In perfect unison$$$ all the townspeople vomited gouts of blood onto the pavement.

The idea that his wedding band was some kind of talisman nauseated him like the smell of attar.

Oh$$$ I have dreams$$$ you fool. I have dreams. I dream of blood.

Be true$$$ unbeliever.

And you require no answers$$$ Foamfollower was laughing in his gladness$$$ "You are sufficient to every question".

Something in her expression made Covenant feel that he came from a very poor world$$$ where no one knew or cared about the healing of stoneware pots.

Part of him wanted to weep... but his purpose was rigid within him. He felt he could not bend to gentleness without breaking.

Joy is in the ears that hear.

I take the position that true faith is not a supersessional knowledge. It cannot discard the intellect.