Come on," I say, "let's go be star-crossed lovers and court disaster.
If you expect the worse, you're only denying someone a chance to be better
But maybe that's what the dead do. They stay. They linger. Benign and sweet and painful. They don't need us. They echo all by themselves.
You,” he says, before the door closes all the way. “I often dream of you.
If Sean's voice is layers of wood, and Mina Ma's is the voice a copper pot, then Mathew Mercer's is the voice of a wild animal. I suddenly think of a movie Ammara and I loved when we were little, and I think of Scar, the lion who murdered his brother...
You have to be a two people; a saint and a sinner
I’d rather spend the rest of my life without ever seeing you again,” he says, “than watch them destroy you because of me.
He can see what move I'm planning to make in chess and counters before I can do it. He always knows who the killer is in a detective story. I think he could make a career out of detecting, but he wants to write plays for theater. Maybe he could be a ...
