This country is founded on a certain tension. He pressed his fists against each other. There is a dualism inherent in democracy—opposing forces pushing against each other, always. Culture clashes. Dif...
To live is to love, to love is to live.
Very well, Your Ladyship Brooding St. Petulant,
We are made by what we are asked to bear, Ling Chan, he’d said.
We take such pains to be polite. We never say what we mean. For all it matters, we could greet each other and speak only of cheese - How was your Limburger, miss? Salty as a ripe Stinking Bishop, than...
Well, are you going to motivate people to bring peace to war-torn nations, or are you going to motivate people to join a cult and drink the Kool-Aid?
What frightens you?What makes the hair on your arms rise, your palms sweat, the breath catch in your chest like a wild thing caged?Is it the dark? A fleeting memory of a bedtime story, ghosts and gobl...
What happens if your choice is misguided, You must try to correct it But what if it’s too late? What if you can’t? Then you must find a way to live with it.
What makes a girl a girl? What makes a guy a guy? Do you have to be what they want you to be? Or do you stop and listen to that voice inside you? I know who I am. I'm Petra West. And I'm a girl. You w...
What place lay beyond the reach of evil?
Whatever is without question is most vulnerable.
When did you become a cynic? Sam asked. Evie smiled. When I found out I was a little girl.
When it is time for me to visit Brigid, I find her awake in her little room. That's awl righ', luv. I don' care to forget, if it's all the same, she says, and there are no rowan leaves at her window a...
When the Bennington was built, in 1872, it was said that the architect, who had descended from a long line of witches, fashioned the building on ancient occult principles so that it would always be a...
When the music is over, she keeps her head down till she finds her seat again, and I wonder how many times each day she dies a little.
When you looked up to the sky and cried 'Why?' sometimes the sky shrugged, yet other times it answered with warm assurance of linked hands.
Why do I feel this response makes Kartik much like governesses who tell their charges grisly fairy tales before bed and then expect them to sleep peacefully through the night?
Why does anyone do anything? Belief. A belief that they are doing right and just in their actions.
Why does it always seem that I have only the shadow of my father? I'm like a child constantly grabbing at his coattails and missing.
Why had this power come to me? I can scarcely govern myself. At times, I feel as if I could dance through the halls with happiness, and then, just as suddenly, my thoughts are dark and lost and fright...
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