I know I burn for you.Even in my sleep, the sleep of our people where there can be no thought,I burn for you.

He worked at stealing her heart to replace the one she'd taken from him.

They're spreading out. Look unaware and sweet and innocent. It's a little hard to look innocent when I'm as big as a house.

I write for the love of writing. If I never published another book, I would still be writing stories.

The real knife to a man's heart was his woman's tears.

You are such a chicken. Bock. Bock. Bock." He refused to allow her very bad chicken impression to ruffle his feathers. He was above petty name-calling.

The real question is, can you love the real me? Not the perfect person you want me to be, not that image you had of me, but who I really am.