I am made of words. When you cut me, I bleed sentences. When you read me, I speak to your soul.

The first time she saw Jag Silvertree she was watering the garden, and her clematis got soaked as she dreamt of melting into his face. The second time she saw Jag she knew she would never feel his...

Claire coaxed free another loop of cloth. The slow side of cotton against cotton matched the soft tenor of her voice. "I have lots of talents Mr. Ryland. Listening is only one of them."

Provided that nothing like useful knowledge could be gained from them, provided they were all story and no reflection, she had never any objection to books at all.

The romance genre is the only genre where readers are guaranteed novels that place the heroine at the heart of the story. These are books that celebrate women's heroic virtues and values: courage,...

Do you not hear the loud gallop of the Storm-riders and the thunderous battle horn from their Heralds, coming from the high seas? Night falls, and so will you.

Deeply rooted in the universalist Western tradition of the Stoics and the early medieval Christians, Tolkien created a myth to explore the nature of the human person against the avaricious dreams of...

Through me you go to the grief-wracked city; Through me you go to everlasting pain; Through me you go a pass among lost souls. Justice inspired my exalted Creator: I am a creature of the Holiest...

Stories are like snapshots, pictures snatched out of time, with clean hard edges. But this was life, and life always begins and ends in a bloody muddle, womb to tomb, just one big mess, a can of worms...

Shake off this downy sleep, death's counterfeit,And look on death itself!

She used to say she could taste sleep and that it was as delicious as a BLT on fresh French bread.

To be thus is nothing, but to be safely thus...

Rini moved in to kiss him, but on his cheek. She gave him two pecks on his right cheek and one more on his left, which caused him to blush. Three kisses, huh? She beamed at him and nodded when she...

Sean reaches between us and slides a thin bracelet of red ribbons over my free hand. Lifting my arm, he presses his lips against the inside of my wrist. I'm utterly still; I feel my pulse tap several...

I'm evolving, is the thing; I'm a god becoming a constellation. The constellations are mostly demigods,' I point out. 'And they didn't get to be constellations until after they died.' He laughs at...

When afternoon came to Vidyasagar Road, wet clothes ... hung from a clothesline which stretched from one side to another on the veranda of the first floor. The line, which had not been tightly drawn...

She decided that day to study Russian, the language of violence, terror, and absurdity. She knew she would never be bored.

In a dark layer of Esme's memory there was a kiss. Vividly she recalled Mihai in the snow, naked and fanged. That kiss had conjured ancient passions a god had tried to erase, and Esme remembered the...

To become the love of a poet is to become both a muse and an immortal all at the same time.

Romanticism in loneliness is a true romanticism

True authors don't write for fame or to make a name or money, they write to make impact

Anne thought carefully about the question with perfect resolution, and expressed as much in her reply as her own feelings could justify, or as his appeared able to endure, for he was too deeply...

When they had hurried to the train station with their violin cases, they had drawn almost as many stares as they would on any normal day when their hair was to their knees and sheeting behind them...

She glanced again toward Vincent. And who is he again?Vincent grinned. I'm Vincent Blackman of the SpiderSly Company. Mirren and I are going to sleep together; we just have to get through this...

OMG! I DESIGNED THIS NEW SOCIAL MEDIA PLATFORM! IT'S CALLED "POETRY" - YOU HAVE TO READ AMY KING'S POEMS TO GET AN INVITE ~

I did not want to tell her what happened, but I had to now. I could not stop talking because now I had started my story, it wanted to be finished. We cannot choose where to start and stop. Our stories...

And I here make a rule - a great and lasting story is about everyone or it will not last. The strange and foreign is not interesting - only the deeply personal and familiar.

The most comfortable place for a tired mind is in the lap of a book.

The broken spine of the book shows the webbing of binder's string, and my fingers have worn white spots in the cover.

I despair of ever getting it through anybody's head I am not interested in bookshops, I am interested in what's written in the books. I don't browse in bookshops, I browse in libraries, where you can...