Sometimes when I think how good my book can be, I can hardly breathe.
Just kissing? How quickly you dismiss our love.
As long as there is love and memory, there is no true loss.
He seemed to realize she was staring at him, because the cursing stopped. "You cut me," he said. His voice was pleasant. British. Very ordinary. He looked at his hand with critcal interest. "It might be fatal. " Tessa looked at him with wide eyes. "Are you the Magister?" He tilted his hand to the side. Blood ran down it, spattering the floor. "Dear me, massive blood loss. Death could be imminent.
Every heart has its own melody.
Life is a book and there are a thousand pages I have not yet read.
The more you try to crush your true nature, the more it will control you. Be what you are. No one who really loves you will stop.
I'm one of those people who snake through the crowd, keep my head low. I'm not looking for attention.
All taxes discourage something. Why not discourage bad things like pollution rather than good things like working?
Any messages for me?" Usually I got one or two, but mostly people who wanted my help preferred to talk in person. "Yes. Hold on. " She pulled out a handful of pink tickets and recited from memory, without checking the paper. "Seven forty-two a. m. , Mr. Gasparian: I curse you. I curse your arms so they wither and die and fall off your body. I curse your eyeballs to explode. I curse your feet to swell until blue. I curse your spine to crack. I curse you. I curse you. I curse you.
What will this boaster produce worthy of this mouthing? The mountains are in labor; a ridiculous mouse will be born. [Lat. , Quid dignum tanto feret hic promissor hiatu? Parturiunt montes; nascetur ridiculus mus. ]