Writers are damned liars. Every single one of them.

Turn away. From the darkness, the madness, the pain. Open your eyes and look at the light.

Make them care, Mattie,' she said softly. 'And don't you ever be sorry.' -Emily Wilcox

Voice is not just the sound that comes from your throat, but the feelings that come from your words.

It has an L on it. L for love. See? It's the key to the universe, Dad. You said you were looking for it. You told Mom you were. I found it for you so you don't have to look anymore. So you can come home at night.

I just love historical fiction.

Her grey eyes sparkled with passion as she spoke. Sid looked into them and for a second he glimpsed her soul. He saw what she was - fierce and brave. Upright. Impatient. And good. So good that she would sit covered in gore, shout at dangerous men, and keep a long, lonely vigil - all to save the likes of him. He realized she was a rare creature, as rare as a rose in winter.