People die, Rachel," Ceri said, her cheeks flushing. "Not if I can help it," I snapped. "And not of a broken heart. If you could, I'd be dead already.

Sweet mother of chaos," he breathed. "Rachel, you are indeed one of us. Have your time in the sun. You're worth the extra wait.

Elves apparently had a short childhood. Not like witches, who seemed to take forever to grow up, according to Jenks.

I suddenly realized that a bunch of my friends needed babysitters and vowed to start screening my calls.

Don't fall into the trap of having to have everything perfect to write or wait until the mood strikes you. If you want it as a job, treat it like a job, and just as you don't go to work only when you feel like it, you have to condition yourself to sit and write even when the ideas don't flow.

But a slow, deeply satisfied smile came over him, and his breath quickened. 'So softly it starts,' he whispered. 'Foolishly clever and with an unsurvivable trust. It just saved your miserable life, that questionable show of thought, my itchy-witch.' Al’s smile shifted, becoming lighter. 'And now you will live to possibly regret it.

My mother isn't crazy. She simply has a harder time than most reconciling her reality with everyone else's reality.