I was a fine arts major in college, and a painter for many years. And I found that, like writing, art is very similar.

I watched for her hair to curl, the telltale Caster breeze. It didn't move. This wasn't Caster magic she was working. It was another kind altogether. She couldn't charm her way out from under Macon's watch. She would have to resort to older magic, stronger magic, the kind that had worked best on Macon from the time she first moved to Ravenwood. Plain old love.

They really hate you, yes they do. They hate everyone, how 'bout you?

Flying or falling, it's up to us.

It was crazy how a hearse and a pair of sneakers could cheer a guy up.

No, I'm too busy trying to deflect your Power of Stupidity. But I don't think I'm strong enough.

moments bleed together, no span to time