The weak grey light that serves as harbinger of red and golden dawn faintly lit my window. I fumbled for a candle, found and lit it, and by its little light saw that the rose floating in the bowl was...
She had courage enough, but little imagination; or she would not have forgotten joy, whatever the weight on her.
Say yes, babe, or I'll spill you off over the Wall next time - got it?
No, but I am working up to telling you that there is no possibility of there being done what ought to be done
I don't believe in fate, she said at last. But I do believe in...loopholes. I think a lot of what keeps the world going is the result of accidents — happy or otherwise — and taking advantage of these.
And what was I panicking about anyway? Being left alone with myself? I'd rather have a vampire around?Well. Yes.
And if my choice is to sit graciously in my best robes and accept the inevitable or to bail a sea with a bucket, give me the bucket.
Like a grain of sand that gets into an oyster's shell. What if the grain doesn't want to become a pearl? Is it ever asked to climb out quietly and take up its old position as a bit of ocean floor?
And again she wished for Sherwood, and the dappled roof of leaves that never weighed upon her. She pulled her scarf closer around her and thought, I would rather live in a hut in the woods; a hut like...
Breaking tradition always comes with a noise like mountains falling.
The man paused and added with a grin, He also wishes your porter's head on a silver plate for not opening the gate at once upon his herald's declaration of his visit. This tale of threatening brigands...
She had had insomnia badly when she was fresh from Home.... She had had only occasional bad nights since then. Bad? she thought. Why bad? I rarely feel much the worse the next day, except for a sort o...