Hope is a dangerous thing, Raisa thought. Once kindled, it's hard to put out. It makes wise people into fools.
We may all end up dead, but we're sticking it to them in the meantime.
A fiction writer is never entirely alone. Her characters are constantly whispering in her ear.
He's not lazy. He's just highly inefficient.
She had never felt more alive than when she lay dying in Han Alister's arms.
I have lost everything, Han thought. Then he corrected himself. Every time I think Iโve lost everything, I find thereโs still something else to lose.