His fingers never ceased to amaze me. They could break a man's neck, bandage a wound, and slide sensually across bare skin.
Richelle MeadLife and death were so unpredictable. So close to each other. We existed moment to moment, never knowing who would be the next to leave the world. I was still in it, barely, and as I looked up from the ashes, everything around me seemed so sweet and so beautiful. The trees. The stars. The moon. I was alive -- and I was glad I was.
Richelle MeadLook who's calling the cauldron black." "Kettle. Itโs a kettle. Get your metaphors right." "That wasnโt a metaphor. It was a, you know..." He stared off into space, blinking. "One of those things thatโs symbolic of another thing. But isnโt the same thing. Just like it." "You mean a metaphor?" "No! Itโs like a story...like...a proverb! Thatโs it." "Iโm pretty sure that wasnโt a proverb. Maybe it was an analogy." "I donโt think so.
Richelle Mead