If we’re mad, we’re mad in large numbers, at least larger than yours.
I keep thinking about a tale my nurse used to read to me about a bird whose wings are pinned to the ground. In the end, when he finally frees himself, he flies so high he becomes a star. My nurse said the story was about how we all have something that keeps us down.
He had a dashing smile. It nearly dashed right off his face.
All I’ve ever wanted was to be near you.
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.
I, Geric-Sinath of Gerhard, declare that you’re beautiful and you’re perfect and I’ll slay any man who tries to take you from my side. Goose girl, may I kiss you?
Its important to know stories. I felt the earth shift to make a place for you when you were born, and I came to tell you stories while you are young. And like me, you were born with a word on your tongue.
She closed the book and put her cheek against it. There was still an odor of a library on it, of dust, leather, binding glue, and old paper, one book carrying the smell of hundreds.
I know I would crumble if I lost you.
You’re better than seven years of food. You’re better than windows. You’re even better than the sky.
They finished laughing and caught their breaths, and looked at each other, and Ani thought Geric looked at her too long, as though he forgot he was looking, as though he did not wish to do anything else. She looked back. Her took heart took its time quieting down.
Writing a first draft and reminding myself that I’m simply shoveling sand into a box so that later I can build castles.
I was under the stars, like a fish is under water.
Really, becoming a writer sounds more like a mental illness than a professional choice.
He smiled in a way that made me want to kiss him right on the spot. Or the lips. Whichever was closer.
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.
I cannot write to anyone outside myself – if I tried, it would be a horrible story, flat and lifeless. I write to myself. That’s the only person I’m trying to please.
They laughed much harder than the memory was funny because it felt good to laugh.
What should I say? That I like him so much it hurts?
Razo hopped back up and adopted a posture that said he was completely unruffled, never had been, and in fact was ready to do something manly like lift boulders or swallow live worms.