His words had tossed the book that was her life into the air and the pages had been blown into disarray, could never be put back together to tell the same story.

Doors lead to things and I've never met one I haven't wanted to open.

I simply love writing good stories, that's my passion.

Cassandra always hid when she read, though she never quite knew why. It was as if she couldn't shake the guilty suspicion that she was being lazy, that surrendering herself so completely to something so enjoyable must surely be wrong. But surrender she did. Let herself drop through the rabbit hole and into a tale of magic and mystery.

It's a funny thing, character, the way it brands people as they age, rising from within to leave its scar.

But history is a faithless teller whose cruel recourse to hindsight makes fools of its actors.

Even the most pragmatic person fell victim at times to a longing for something other.