I live in Hamburg; that's in the north. And I live on the outskirts of town. It looks like countryside.

In love - it sounded like a sickness without any cure, and wasn't that just how it sometimes felt?

The night breathed through the apartment like a dark animal. The ticking of a clock. The groan of a floorboard as he slipped out of his room. All was drowned by its silence. But Jacob loved the night. He felt it on his skin like a promise. Like a cloak woven from freedom and danger.

My dear Elinor, you were obviously born into the wrong story,” said Dustfinger at last.

Nothing is more terrifying than fearlessness.

We all know what fun it can be to get right into a book and live there for a while, but falling out of a story and suddenly finding yourself in this world doesn't seem to be much fun at all.

Writing stories is a kind of magic, too.