Some truths did not bear saying, and some lies were necessary.

A crown should not sit easy on the head.

I never finished any of my early stories. They were all beginnings, an endless number of beginnings.

She should be on a hill somewhere, under a fruit tree, with the sun and clouds above her and the rain to wash her clean.

Swift as a deer. Quiet as a shadow. Fear cuts deeper than swords. Quick as a snake. Calm as still water.

Kind? How boring that would be. I aspire to be wicked.

We know truth for the cruel instrument it is. Beauty is infinitely preferable to truth.