It's like she had a soul that was much too big for her; it filled her to the brim till there was no more space, so it flowed out through her eyes.
He was already fading. I knew that it wouldn't be long until he was just a vague image, however much I tried to cling onto his memory.
One could call a master a good master because he did not whip his slaves, but ultimately he was still and owner of men, and men were not made to be owned.
Civilization depends on continually making the effort, of never giving in. It needs to be cared for by men of goodwill, protected from the dark.
I was his heartbeat. I was his fucking universe. Now I was, but soon I wouldn't be. I would miss that, miss being important. I would miss having someone.
Kora may have been a witch, and your father may have had prophetic dreams. But you Paige, is not a witch. You are something much more, but the question is what?
Si no sientes nada por mi ¿Por qué siempre que estoy con otra chica te molestas? ¿Por qué aunque estés en los brazos de tu adorado novio me miras a mí?
There is an awkward silence that overcomes you when cross paths with the person that kisses your heart the second that you meet them. It balances on the edge of unknown but always desired.
Emotions retain a timeless photographic memory. Good or bad, you can never forget how a person makes you feel.
A fiction writer is nothing more than the ambassador of an alternative world of their own design. Their success dwells in how many people their work entices to relocate
When writing fiction, you learn to only put things and characters in, that are going to progress your story. There is something to be learned about that approach in real life
I find it boring and a waste of time debating other people’s opinions, however challenging my own is always intriguing and there is where I inevitably discover growth.
Aside from a very select few, there are no overnight success stories. Most of the time that single step took a thousand miles to get to it.
The true magic of novels dwells within us individually. Each reader will interpret every single character, scene, and metaphor in a slightly different way
God loves us so much that he doesn’t let us live forever so we can stop making mistakes
I consider myself a synthetic thinker in a virtual domain therefore if I’m way off there is no solid foundation or reference for authentic stupidity.
We're all mad, the whole damned race. We're wrapped in illusions, delusions, confusions about the penetrability of partitions, we're all mad and in solitary confinement.
The stars are reflected from within the black water in the cistern. I find comfort in the omen I glean from this: light in the darkness, truth when it seems there is none.
In the presence of the storm, thunderbolts, hurricane, rain, darkness, and the lions, which might be concealed but a few paces away, he felt disarmed and helpless.
Get done with the damn sibling rivalry and let's get back with the task at hand here so we can figure out what we're going to do.
I cannot ever imagine a time or place in which I will not love you. I am willing to do whatever it takes.
