An inventor's path is chorused with groans, riddled with fist-banging and punctuated by head scratches.
I've got a stele we can use. Who wants to do me?" "A regrettable choice of words," muttered Magnus.
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.
Electronic communication is an instantaneous and illusory contact that creates a sense of intimacy without the emotional investment that leads to close friendships.
Because I don't do stand-up, radio has always been my equivalent, a place to stay in connection with the public and force myself to write every week and come up with new characters. Plus it's a medium that – having grown up with it and putting myself to sleep with a radio under my pillow [as a kid] – I love. No matter what picture you want to create in the listener's mind, a few minutes of work gets it done.
The way to get on with a cat is to treat it as an equal - or even better, as the superior it knows itself to be.
You didn't listen to me," Lan whispered. One last lesson. The hardest. Demandred struck, and Lan saw his opening. Lan lunged forward placing Demandred's sword point against his own side and ramming himself forward onto it. "I did not come here to win," Lan whispered, smiling. "I came here to kill you. Death is lighter than a feather. " Demandred's eyes opened wide, and he tried to pull back. Too late. Lan's sword took him straight though the throat.