You couldn’t keep your mouth shut? I’m calling you Glitterhair from now on. Or Talksalot.

You touch me again, you arrogant Ardenine swine, and I swear on the blood of Hanalea the warrior, I will geld you. Do you understand?

A fiction writer is never entirely alone. Her characters are constantly whispering in her ear.

More and more, there were no revelations, but simply the uncovering of truths long known but dimly remembered. Everything had been written long ago. There was nothing truly new in the world, but only the slow, circular march of time that revealed the old things once again.

He swept Raisa up into his arms and kissed her like it was his first, last, and only

Her clothes still smoked from the wizard’s assault. But to him, she always smelled of flowers.

There's something about a roof isn't there? It makes you feel like it doesn't matter what's going on below. All of those things that get in the way of your dreams - you're above them. Anything is possible.