Down there the nights are bright and nobody believes in the Devil.
Darkness always had its part to play. Without it, how would we know when we walked in the light? It’s only when its ambitions become too grandiose that it must be opposed, disciplined, sometimes – if...
To never let the other forget who they are—love is also about that.
The road went ever more steeply downhill. Overhead, the branches of the trees intertwined. It was a still, windless morning, cloudy and damp.
The Fairy's dress rustled as she turned. Human women dressed like flowers, layers of petals around a mortal, rotting core.
Sometimes a crow lands on the roof of the house. It sits there for hours and watches the girl. The woman doesn’t chase the bird away.
Fox squeezed past him, feeling his warmth like a home.
Es mejor tener mil enemigos fuera de casa que uno dentro. Proverbio árabe
And there stood Basta with his foot already on another dead body, smiling. Why not? He had hit his target, and it was the target he had been aiming for all along: Dustfinger’s heart, his stupid heart....
Voglio dire che io fiuto le belle storie a chilometri di distanza. Quindi non tenti di nascondermene una. Sputi fuori, forza, e in cambio si guadagna una fetta di questo fantastico dolce con i buchi -...
Wood always remembers it was once a living tree, alive and breathing in both kingdoms, the one above and the one below.
Perhaps the story in the book is just the lid on a pan: It always stays the same, but underneath there's a whole world that goes on - developing and changing like our own world.
My voice had bayou gut them slipping out of their story like a bookmark forgotten by a reader between the pages
How was she supposed to deal with a child? She could hardly manage to keep her own painful heart together.
„Wenn du ein Buch auf eine Reise mitnimmst, hatte Mo gesagt, als er ihr das erste in die Kiste gelegt hatte, „dann geschieht etwas Seltsames: Das Buch wird anfangen, deine Erinnerungen zu sammeln. Du...
Since when does the butterfly ask about the caterpillar?
No. Nothing could make it easier. You lost what you loved. That was death, here as well as there.
Love didn’t deserve the nice reputation it had.
It was hard to let go of love. Once woven, its ribbon was hard to tear, and this one she’d woven quite firmly herself.
In our choices lie our fate