I only saw fire and chandeliers and smoke. No people. Not the room. Not even a time frame. Do you know how many chandeliers there are in the south wing alone? What was I supposed to do? Tell everyone to avoid chandeliers forever?

My only experience with dances was what I had seen on TV, but it really wasn’t that far off. The theme appeared to be “Crepe Paper in the Gymnasium,” and they had mastered it perfectly.

I don't think I've ever really had a home before, not until I met you.

What's your angle?" I asked, trying to sound more playful than demanding. "Isosceles," Jack quipped.

I looked at him like he was an idiot, but he didn’t notice. Or maybe he got it so often, he thought that was how people looked at him.

Can I cut off your head?" "Are you asking for my permission?

I've always kind of wrote when I wanted to. Once I get the idea in my head and get it outlined out, I usually just sit and write until it's done.