What do you do when you know you are breaking someone's heart, but to do anything else would break your own?

Just what I needed—a necromancer with an attitude. Oh, wait, I was a necromancer with an attitude.

What we prefer to read is sort of like sexual preference, you like what you like. Most of the time you have no clue why.

Love is not about owning someone, but about loving them.

People talk of sorrow as if it is soft, a thing of water and tears. But true sorrow is not soft. True sorrow is a thing of fire, and rock. It burns your heart, crushes your soul under the weight of mountains. It destroys, and even if you keep breathing, keep going, you die.

I think like a detective.

How could you love someone and not want them to be happy?