The last thing we expect others to do, its the last thing they do before we learn we cannot trust them.

what if it was enough to just stand here in the arms of someone who ared about her, to let his simple affection steady her for a little while? it felt so good just to be held.

Grief can choke you. It’s dangerous, something else you have to beat.

His eyes burned violet - not with anger but with intense desire. The kind of look that made you love a person so much, you missed him even when he was standing right in front of you.

Would love be so different with someone else? Was love even possible with someone else? Love was supposed to be easy, wasn't it? Then why did she feel so tormented?

I hope that I live for a thousand years, and have a thousand daughters so that there will always be a woman who can curse your name.

Cooking is the best way to unwind at the end of a long writing day. There's something mindless and hands-on about cooking, which makes it feel like the very opposite of writing, which is heady but inactive.