Dead souls dream only of death. Small dreams for small men. It is life that expands to fill worlds. Life is your master, or death is

She was a girl and she was a queen and back in the mists she was a woman who had seized the moon from the sky and drunk its light so that she would never die. And she never had.

When you are young, hone your craft and write shorter pieces instead of novels, because it's really hard to finish a novel.

What are we fighting for? What are we killing for? What do you see when you look into the future?

Once upon a time, an angel lay dying in the mist. And a devil knelt over him and smiled.

Have you ever asked yourself, do monsters make war, or does war make monsters?

...they cupped their wings around their happiness and called it a world, though they both knew it was not a world, only a hiding place, which is a very different thing.