Writers. For some reason, a lot of you reject what you hear and see in your heads. If you go too long ignoring it, it builds up and then you do all sorts of weird things. Mumble to yourself. Nightmares. Day-dreams. Total anarchy and chaos. Before you know it, the writer is either sitting in corner feverishly humming to his- or herself or on Prozac. Youโre not on Prozac, are you? (Esther)
Sherrilyn KenyonItโs a Belgian beer, sweetie. Please tell me youโve at least heard of it. (Blaine) Boy, I was born in Brussels and the last time I checked, this was my new homeland, America, not my birthplace. So you can either order an American-made beer or Iโll bring you water and you can sit there and act all superior until you puke, okay? (Aimee)
Sherrilyn KenyonWhy lily?โ โItโs the most sacred and beautiful of all flowers in Egypt. They bloom in mud and shine in the darkness like a gift from the gods to remind you that no matter how bad something is, it will get better. That no matter how dark the night, the light will come for you. If you partake of them, they have the power to calm and soothe you, and to heal your wounds.โ When he spoke his next words, they were laced with emotion and sincerity. โYou are, and will always be, my sลกn.
Sherrilyn KenyonThat would be like making a pact with Lucifer. (Zarek) Yes, but I donโt smell like sulfur. And I happen to dress better. Luc always looks like a pimp. (Dionysus)
Sherrilyn Kenyon