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

He keeps this up, he's bound to be caught, she thought. And this time they'll dangle him for certain.

Nobody's going to hand you anything. You don't get what you don't go after.

The time will come when you will be forced to make a choice,” Hanalea said. “When that time comes, choose love.

Whoa, Rebecca," Talia said smiling even wider, "Walking on the wild side, are we?" Raisa seemed to think the situation needed more explaining. "He - uh - I'm tutoring him." "She is," Han said solemnly. "She's very good. I'm learning a lot." Pearlie snickered. "What's she teaching you?" "Well," Han said, "we're jumping around a lot.

And, like a fool, she kissed him back. Kissed him a way that would leave no doubt about the way she felt about him. Kissed him because she knew the chances were slim she'd have very many kisses like that in her lifetime. Which is a sad thing when you're only seventeen.

A vocation is not something you slap on, like a coat of paint, and change whenever you want. A vocation is built into you. You have no choice. If you try to do something else, you fail.