No one had ever called her wild before. She wanted to be wild now, for him. Wild seemed more enticing then a bowl of berries.
What? Don't British women know how to use their knees?
It was karma, it was kismet, it was magic. It doesn't matter how it happened, just that it did.
The book smelled dusty and old but also carried a sweet tang, a hint of something inviting. She opened to the first page and started to read, pronouncing the words in a reverent whisper.
I, Geric-Sinath of Gerhard, declare that you're beautiful and you're perfect and I'll slay any man who tries to take you from my side. Goose girl, may I kiss you?
You, what are you? The brat of lucky parents who were related to a childless king. There is no such thing as royal blood. I believe we are what we make ourselves, and as such, you, Crown Princess, are nothing.
It is a truth universally acknowledged that a thirty-something woman in possession of a satisfying career and fabulous hairdo must be in want of very little
All I've ever wanted was to be near you.
For Colin Firth: You're a really great guy, but I'm married, so I think we should just be friends.
A little snark, properly directed, can change the world.
I keep thinking about a tale my nurse used to read to me about a bird whose wings are pinned to the ground. In the end, when he finally frees himself, he flies so high he becomes a star. My nurse said the story was about how we all have something that keeps us down.
Throwing herself into learning helped Miri ignore the painful chill of solitude around her.
... If we don't tell strange stories, when something strange happens we won't believe it.
Being a writer is a good, good thing.
Even the jerks earn some of our affection. We can be glad they're gone and yet still mourn the good parts.
You are my butterfly and refuse to set you free.
I do like the world quite a lot.
I think the only way to get through this life is laughing hard and constantly, mostly at myself.
Mama used to say, you have to know someone a thousand days before you can glimpse her soul.
Writing a first draft and reminding myself that I'm simply shoveling sand into a box so that later I can build castles.
But, how do you know if an ending is truly good for the characters unless you've traveled with them through every page?
Words can fall hard like a boulder loosed from a cliff. Words can drift unnoticed like a weed seed on a breeze. Words can sing.
I've always believed that as an author, I do 50% of the work of storytelling, and the reader does the other 50%. There's no way I can control the story you tell yourself from my book. Your own experiences, preferences, prejudices, mood at the moment, current events in your life, needs and wants influence how you read my every word.
Gerti didn't ask for help." Miri swallowed and tried to calm her quavering voice. "It was my fault." "So it was. Now you all have learned that those who speak out of turn choose punishment for themselves and anyone they speak to." "So if I speak to you, Tutor Olana, will you get the lashes?
Finn, do you see the lias-whatever, the orange-haired girl?" Razo Gestured ahead. "Do you think she's pretty?" Finn glanced Dasha's way, then returned his attention ot his horse. "She's all right." "Really? Just all right?" Finn shrugged. Razo rolled his eyes. "What am I saying? He doesn't think any girl is pretty but Enna." "Are there any girls but Enna?" Finn called back. "There'd better be.
Her eyes were distant, and she seemed to be listening to that voice that first told her the story, a mother, sister, or aunt. Then her voice, like her singing, cut through the crickets and crackling fire.
As a general rule, writing is very inconvenient.
...'Goose girl, may I kiss you?' She answered by... kissing him first.
But the hoping, that's what really hurts.
She dismounted, grabbed Enna's hand so tightly that she drew blood with her fingernails, walked straight into the nearest cottage, and plopped down on a bed. Enna nodded to the startled cottage dwellers. It's the queen, you see," said Enna. "She's going to have a baby in your house. You don't mind?
The to Cathal was battered and only one wagon wide, with swells of hard earth where mud had frozen during cold ad rainy seasons. Enna tripped often, and cursed each time she tripped, until Dasha said, "Enna, you might watch your language." Enna grimaced. "I was. You should hear my thoughts.
No wolf falters before the bite So strike No hawk wavers before the dive Just strike
How I keep trying to force our story into a fairy tale, but from the beginning, it's been more like a nursery rhyme." "Bizarre and adorable?" "Just like you." "With rings in your pockets and bells on your toes" "Ooh, I should really invest in some toes bells.
Get back in my cot, girl," said Gilsa. "You're sickly." No, I'm not," said Ani. Oh, no? Well, maybe stubbornness is a sickness, did you ever think of that?
There's nothing more aggravating in the world than the midnight sniffling of the person you've decided to hate.
Sometimes one does not mean to fall in love. Sometimes it just happens
She closed the book and put her cheek against it. There was still an odor of a library on it, of dust, leather, binding glue, and old paper, one book carrying the smell of hundreds.
Don't beat yourself up," said Charlotte. "True love can be so easily mistaken for other things-friendship, humane concern, indigestion...
No small thing, a bee's sting When it enters the heart Not so benign, the growing vine When it tears stone apart
... until Miri could not help it any longer and she laughed out loud. The sound broke the game. Peder looked at her. He reached out, and she thought he meant to grab her straw or perhaps yank her hair as he used to when they were little. But her put his hand behind her head and, leaning forward, pulled her face to his. He kissed her. One long, slow kiss.