[His stubbornness is the soil from which such hypocrisy grows, unfurling great and gnarled, an ugly weed that finds no shortage of nourishment to sustain it. For all that he dislikes the feeling of estrangement that has lately held him fast - he who in his homeland is revered, he who has risen to meet his glittering fate, fitting so precisely into the weave of time-honored heroes and tradition - he does not wish to be the one who must bend to others.]

What is it that I shall blow? I know not how I shall find time enough to worry for whether or not my words can be understood when I myself will be so occupied by attempts to decipher the speech of other men, if all of this land truly speak as you do.

[The frustration that twists his brow seems, at least, to be not for Asher himself, but for the immensity of understanding none and being understood by none in return.]