Careful with the accusations of insanity, oh my lady whose home is a tower with windows of brick, all for the sake of some skinny-ankled, laugh-prone boy of a khan.

Really, becoming a writer sounds more like a mental illness than a professional choice.

A little snark, properly directed, can change the world.

Will you accompany me in this dance?” he said, bowing and holding out his hand. “No, thank you.” Miri smiled. The prince frowned and looked and the chief delegate as if for assistance. Miri laughed self consciously. “I, uh, I was teasing.

Her nightmare clung to her like the smell of smoke to cloth.

Writing a first draft and reminding myself that I'm simply shoveling sand into a box so that later I can build castles.

Sometimes one does not mean to fall in love. Sometimes it just happens