Talking won't change it. But sometimes it was what she wanted most, to tell someone; often, though, she just wanted to escape those horrid feelings, to escape herself, so there was no pain, no fear, no ugliness.

Over a four-month period, I sat down and wrote every day. And then there was a novel, and all of a sudden, there were agents and offers.

She turned so they were face-to-face and gave him back the words he'd offered her their first night together: "I survived. Isn't that what matters?

I'm not bloodthirsty, but...seriously, she killed you. She needs to be dead.

You are the one who gives me reason to wake in the mornings, who infuriates me, who enrages me, who enthralls me. You are my passion, my fury, my soul. Shall i explain further?

For this mortal I would disobey my queen, abandon my king, the court that has protected me all these years. All of it.

You say potato; I say potahto..." I say integrity; you say deceit.