What she had long believed was not true, and now the world was wide open to discover what was. It is like all my life I thought the sky was green.

Goodness knows she is too fierce for you Goodness knows she has eyes for a lord Goodness knows she yet will prove untrue Her cheek's blush is as false as her word

Razo knew he was best at nothing, except maybe cramming two cherries into a single nostril.

In some ways, I don’t feel as if I had a choice. Looking back at my childhood, even before I could read and write, I was making up stories. I love reading and I love telling stories, and the times in my life when I’ve tried to ignore that part of me, I’ve gone a little crazy. Characters start tugging on my sleeves, words start haunting me, and I feel generally unsatisfied. Really, being a writer sounds more like a mental illness than a professional choice.

When you get tired of worrying and mourning your horse and trying not to be afraid, tell me and I'll do it for you a while so you can shut your eyes and sleep peaceful.

If you're listening Big Brother, I refuse to be Fanny Price.

Ah, now, don't cry over lost years and forgetfulness. The tales tell what they can. The rest is for us to learn.