We are what we are, neither a good or as bad as others paint us. And what we are doesn't change how truly we feel, only how free we are to follow those feelings.

Writing is not just the technical act of your fingers on the keyboard. Writing is living.

You are the single most amazing person, faery, woman in this world or the other. Because of you, I am a part of this strange new world, have a second mother, and . . . eternity. I have almost everything I could want.

Good night, Seth." "So you're running again, then?" One of his boots thudded on the floor. "I'm not running." The other boot hit the floor. "Really?" "Really. It's just—" She stopped; she didn't have anything that would finish that sentence and be honest. "Maybe you should slow down, so I can catch you." He paused, waiting.

Love makes you foolish. It makes you throw every bit of logic away, do stupid things, dangerous things.

I don't know what I am, but this isn't happiness.

Rejoice as summer should...chase away sorrows by living.