Step follows step,Hope follows Courage,Set your face towards danger,Set your heart on victory.
He put his hand on my waist, and my heart began to pound, a rougher rhythm than the music. I held my skirt. Our free hands met. His felt warm and comforting and unsettling and bewildering–all at once.
Would you favor me with a dance?” Over all the others I was his choice! I curtsied, and he took my hand. Our hands knew each other. Char looked at me, startled. “Have we met before, Lady?
There’s nothing wrong with reading a book you love over and over. When you do, the words get inside you, become a part of you, in a way that words in a book you’ve read only once can’t.
No sign of pleasure greeted the announcement. The mood in the hall was leaden.My mood was livelier. Fright is livelier than lead.
To me, merely and pretty were words that had nothing to do with each other. Pretty went with miraculously, and merely belonged in another paragraph entirely.
Sorcerers believe that an action taken for the right reasons has an unreasonable chance of success.
In that moment I found a power beyond any I’d had before, a will and a determination I would never have need if not for Lucinda, a fortitude I hadn’t been able to find for a lesser cause.
I had been able to break the curse myself. I’d had to have reason enough, love enough to do it, to find the will and the strength.
ahthOOn SSyng!” I said. “That’s farewell.””It sounds evil.””It is,” I answered, and we parted.
I rode all day.I cried all night.The moon didn’t glow.The sun didn’t rise.A comet blazedBetween my eyes.West and South,Wind and rain.Every way isJust the same.Pray give me a boxTo hide inside.Pray give me a spadeTo dig my own grave.
But the lost one is with you.Her tenderness strengthens you,Her gaiety uplifts you,Her honor purifies you.More than memory,The lost one is found.
… He was only a person on the outside and… his insides were ashes mixed with coins and a brain.
I’m solitary as a pulled tooth,Lonely as an unwelcome truth, Lost as a minnow out of school, A genius in a crop of fools.
She asks why I like her.Might as well askWhy I breathe.Maybe tomorrow I won’tBreathe or like herAnymore.Maybe tomorrow the tidesWill stop.Maybe tomorrow will bringNo more rainbows.Maybe tomorrowShe will stopAsking useless questions.
When I write, I make discoveries about my feelings.
When you become a teenager, you step onto a bridge. You may already be on it. The opposite shore is adulthood. Childhood lies behind. The bridge is made of wood. As you cross, it burns behind you
Rapid movement was a relief in the midst of so much feeling.
Everyone else reached the Shores of Sleep, but I remained oceans away.
Oak, granite,Lilies by the road,Remember me?I remember you.Clouds brushingClover hills,Remember me?Sister, child,Grown tall,Remember me?I remember you.
I never saw a lad, page or prince, so eager to learn to do a thing right.
I wonder how Admat can be everywhere. Is he in my sandal? Or is he my sandal itself? Why would a god bother to be a sandal? Does he wear shoes or sandals himself, invisible ones?
I love you now… I love you immortally, even if I die and there is nothing left of me.
…while the outside world was full of danger, I knew my interior. I was certain that I could oust an intruder there.
I wished I could spend the rest of my life… being slightly crushed by someone who loved me.
Voices and faces aren’t manifestationsof good or bad.