Perhaps we can come here together someday. By the way, you're a month older than the last time I saw you. Are you still too young to marry.
Perhaps you couldn't help being angry... but you could certainly stop yourself from repaying one offense with another.
Pink, gold, blue. I choose you!
Queer Ducks flock together.
Rapid movement was a relief in the midst of so much feeling.
She asks why I like her.Might as well askWhy I breathe.Maybe tomorrow I won'tBreathe or like herAnymore.Maybe tomorrow the tidesWill stop.Maybe tomorrow will bringNo more rainbows.Maybe tomorrowShe wi...
Sun, don't rise!
That fool of a fairy Lucinda did not intend to lay a curse on me. She meant to bestow a gift. When I cried inconsolably through my first hour of life, my tears were her inspiration. Shaking her head s...
That's funny, you're funny. I like you, I'm quite taken by you.
The Writer's Oath I promise solemnly: 1. to write as often and as much as I can, 2. to respect my writing self, and 3. to nurture the writing of others. I accept these responsibilities and shall honor...
The air is fresher here. Rock walls rise on either side of me. They must be the bowl of the volcano.
Would you favor me with a dance? Over all the others I was his choice! I curtsied, and he took my hand. Our hands knew each other. Char looked at me, startled. Have we met before, Lady?
There's nothing wrong with reading a book you love over and over. When you do, the words get inside you, become a part of you, in a way that words in a book you've read only once can't.
To me, merely and pretty were words that had nothing to do with each other. Pretty went with miraculously, and merely belonged in another paragraph entirely.
To pretend I was sliding down the stair rail. He laughed again. You should have done it. I would have caught you at the bottom.
We don’t do big magic. Lucinda’s the only one. It’s too dangerous.What’s dangerous about ending a storm?Maybe nothing, maybe something. Use your imagination.Clear skies would be good. People could go...
We promised to be kind to each other, to be patient, to forgive each other’s faults, to be steadfast and true, and to keep joy in our love.
What would I hold on to up there? His great ears? What if I fell and pulled an ear off with me, or grabbed his silver pendant and swung from his neck like a bell clapper? No, thank you.
When I write, I make discoveries about my feelings.
When you become a teenager, you step onto a bridge. You may already be on it. The opposite shore is adulthood. Childhood lies behind. The bridge is made of wood. As you cross, it burns behind you
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