I had grown up. I had learned that being a woman was knowing when to stand firm and when to compromise. I had learned to laugh and weep; I had learned that I was weak as well as strong. I had learned...
She seemed fragile like a moonflower – destined to bloom for a single lovely night, and then to fade and fall.
Not all were joyful tales; we needed to acknowledge that love was not just kisses, smiles, and fulfillment, but also sacrifice, compromise, and hard work.
The two of them are like open books, they speak the truth at the risk of their own lives, and when they keep silent their thoughts blaze like a beacon from their eyes.
We’re all trapped in a net of consequences, condemned to paths outside our control. It’s the way of things.
I saw that in him she had found her sun and moon, her stars and her dreams. Sorrow
Disparate! - repliquei, e estava tão zangada com ele que o agarrei pelos ombros e lhe dei um bom abanão. - O final da história é teu, de mais ninguém. Podes fazê-lo como quiseres. Há tantos caminhos p...
I did not want to cry any more. Instead I felt hollow, empty, as if all the meaning had been sucked out of me and I was drifting, light as a skeleton leaf, at the mercy of the four winds. I was draine...
He was, as I’d expected, sitting on the most precarious slope of the roof, knees drawn up, arms around them, his expression unreadable as he gazed out over the stonewalled pastures, the barns and byre...
The future was in our own hands. If we wanted a world where such things were possible, it was for us to make it.
The day before you died was the longest, slowest day ever. It gave you more time than you could possibly want to contemplate all the things you’d got wrong, the chances you’d missed, the errors you’d...
I had less control over my thoughts than I'd have liked. The little ring hung around my neck, under my gown, where nobody could see it. When I was alone, I took it out sometimes, wondering how he had...
The girl is not yours, or mine, or anyone’s. But for now, she travels under my protection, and let him who lays a hand on her answer to me.
You know not, yet, the sort of love that strikes like a lightning bolt, that clutches hold of you by the heart, as irrevocably as death; that becomes the lodestar by which you steer the rest of your l...
That's what it is to be a hero, Riordan says. It's fighting on even when you're hopelessly outnumbered. It's seeing your friends dying all around you, witnessing the most shocking cruelty you could im...
I do not view suicide as wicked, just terribly sad. There is only one death, but it is like a stone cast into a pond - the ripples stretch far. Such an act must leave a burden of sorrow, guilt, shame...
Perhaps this is what the stories meant when they called somebody heartsick. Your heart and your stomach and your whole insides felt hollow and empty and aching.
At some point, we'll both have to risk telling the truth.
If you give respect, yet get respect back. If you offend, you get...retribution.
Become my friend and you embrace a nightmare.
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