So what? All writers are lunatics!

Ten minutes can be a long time when you're waiting with a beating heart for something you don't understand, something you don't really want to know.

He put his hands on her shoulders and kissed her full on the mouth. His skin was wet with rain. When she didn't pull away, he took her face between his hands and kissed her again, on her forehead, on her nose, on her mouth once more. "You will come, won't you? Promisse!" he whispered.

What's the matter princess? Do you know the end of your story?

If I was a book, I would like to be a library book, so I would be taken home by all different sorts of kids.

Mortimer's face twisted when the Piper pressed his knife against his ribs. Oh yes, he's obviously made the wrong enemies in this story, thought Orpheus. And the wrong friends. But that was high-minded heroes for you. Stupid.

I prefer a story that has the good sense to stay on the page where it belongs. - Elinor