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Which is a sad thing when you're only seventeen.

Cinda Williams Chima

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Cinda Williams Chima
Age: 72
Born: 1952
Born: January 1
Author
Novelist
Writer
Springfield
Ohio
Seventeen
Thing

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I continue to believe in miracles. But i know that miracles come to those who work very hard
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But maybe it's better to go after something, and not get it, than to not even try.
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And it's not just a matter of you hurting me. I will hurt you too, even if I don't want to, I'm not the girl you think I am. And you will remember this conversation , and wish that you'd listened to me.
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If you want to be a writer, you must be in love with the process of writing, whether you achieve financial success or not.
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Will you give the girl to me? she said. Will you let me try? He nodded, dizzy with relief. Please, Willo. Please. Save her. It doesn't matter...what happens to me.
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My tagline is ‘Less sex, more romance, lower body count.’
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He expects nothing, she thought, because he's never had anything. And nothing was expected of him. He was free in a way she never would be.
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Jason settled back on the bench. 'I hate to break this to you, but as a rule, wizards are nasty people. They're powerful, capricious, ruthless, egotistical, used to getting their own way. That's being kind.
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Both Averill and Bayar were like actors speaking lines for their audience and not to each other.
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You didn't have to go to the fireworks with him. Or - or let him fondle you. Fondle? Raisa raised her eyebrows, When did I mention fondling?
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But I don't want your throne. Then what do you want? You.
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Well now, Jack, Hastings said from the sidelines. I'm afraid you've been beheaded. Not a good start. He sounded amused.
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You look like a boy who has eaten the fruit of the tree of knowledge and doesn't like the taste.
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History,' Mari muttered, as if she'd overheard his thoughts. 'Why do we need to know what happened before we were born?' 'So hopefully we get smarter and don't make the same mistakes again.
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There's something about a roof isn't there? It makes you feel like it doesn't matter what's going on below. All of those things that get in the way of your dreams - you're above them. Anything is possible.
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One more thing: Linda, can you get to Canterbury and take over my Chaucerian Society? They're at Dovecote Hostelry in the old city. We're visiting all the scenes of the great murders. Tomorrow they want to see where Becket was killed. They're a bloodthirsty lot, it seems.
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I need to go to parties, Raisa mused, so I don't think so much.
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It was one of the warm nights at the end of summer that makes promises that won't be kept.
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A fiction writer is never entirely alone. Her characters are constantly whispering in her ear.
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His aster-blue eyes shown out from a face blackened by bruises and soot, his fair hair glittering in the firelight. Dressed all in black, silhouetted against flame, he looked rather like a demon, raised from the dead, trading for souls on the other side.
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