When we're alive, life consumes us. But when we die, all of the color and the motion is gone so quickly, it's as though it can no longer stand to be wasted on us.

Ah, love. That’s what the world has lost. There’s no more love, only the illusion of it.

I'll tell you something about true love. There's no science to it. It's as natural as the sky.

Write words you’re willing to burn at the stake for. Write words you’d believe in even if the rest of the world didn’t.

Words like 'unputdownable' and 'irresistible' are simply not enough for Cat Winters's In the Shadow of Blackbirds. Days after finishing this story, it remains the first thought I have in the morning, and the thing that haunts me until I sleep.

Real’ is a dirty word in this place.

When we're alive, life consumes us. But when we die, all of the color and the motion is gone so quickly, it's as though it can no longer stand to be wasted on us.