At the same time, we both pulled back briefly still oh so close. Everything in the word rested on that moment. "We can't..." He told me. "I know," I agreed. Then his mouth was on mine again, and this time I knew there would be no turning back.
Richelle MeadDreams, dreams. I walk them; I live them. I delude myself with them. It's a wonder I can spot reality anymore.
Richelle MeadLook, Sage. I don't know much about chemistry or computer hacking or photosynthery, but this is something I've got a lot of experience with." I think he mean photosynthesis, but I didn't correct him. "Use my knowledge. Don't let it go to waste.
Richelle MeadRose once told me about this poem she’d read. There was this line, ‘If your eyes weren’t open, you wouldn’t know the difference between dreaming and waking.’ You know what I’m afraid of? That someday, even with my eyes open, I still won’t know.
Richelle MeadAll this time…ever since I sold my soul, I’ve been clinging to this idea that there is something pure and decent out there. That there was something to give me hope that even if I was a lost cause, at least there was something bright and good in the world. But there isn’t. If there was, Seth wouldn’t have fallen. Erik wouldn’t have died. Andrea Mortensen wouldn’t be dying.” -Georgina to Carter
Richelle Mead