How loud small noises sound in a silence.
He saw so many emotions mingled on her face: anger disappointment, fear – and defiance. Like her daughter, thought Fenoglio again. So uncompromising, so strong. Women were different, no doubt about it...
Ciò che un libro avrebbe potuto raccontarle non l'aveva mai intimorita. Anzi, di solito non vedeva l'ora di lasciarsi trasportare in un mondo nuovo, inesplorato, e la sua curiosità era tale che si met...
As Mo had said: writing stories is a kind of magic, too.
And this time he would have said it, right? I love you. So much. Too much. But that was forbidden. For all time. The Elf would take his heart in payment.
Paper
Why were love and death such close neighbors?
Whenever he felt the sharp pangs of homesickness he had come back here to his old enemies, where he didn't feel quite so out of place.
What else but death could you hope to reap when you gave your heart to a mortal?
We all know what fun it can be to get right into a book and live there for a while, but falling out of a story and suddenly finding yourself in this world doesn't seem to be much fun at all.
They slept with each other for the first time while waiting out a storm in an abandoned shepherd hut. The hours the storm granted them, surrounded by raw wool and rusty shears, felt like a month, a ye...
They (books) were familiar voices, friends that never quarreled with her, clever, powerful friends - daring and knowledgeable, tried and tested adventurers who had traveled far and wide.
The unicorns lifted their heads. Of course they weren't white. Why were things in this world always white-washed? Their hides were brown and grey, mottled black, and pale yellow like the autumn sun dr...
The poem you brought yesterday,’ said Balbulus in a bored voice as he bent over his work again, ‘it was good. You ought to write such things more often, but I know you prefer writing stories for child...
The night swallowed him up like a thieving fox.
The books in Mo and Meggie’s house were stacked under tables, on chairs, in the corners of the rooms. There were books in the kitchen and books in the lavatory. Books on the TV set and in the closet,...
The books in Mo and Meggie's house were stacked under tables, on chairs, in the corners of the rooms. There where books in the kitchen and books in the lavatory. Books on the TV set and in the closet,...
The Fairy looked at the broken glass around her feet. Her shattered cage. And the one who’d put her in it was far, far away. But, no, she had caged herself.
Thats beautiful! Sad and beautiful, murmured Meggie. Why were sad stories often so beautiful? It was different in real life.
Sommige boeken proef je,andere verslind je,