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She had never felt more alive than when she lay dying in Han Alister's arms.

Cinda Williams Chima

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Cinda Williams Chima
Age: 72
Born: 1952
Born: January 1
Author
Novelist
Writer
Springfield
Ohio
Never
Lays
Dying
Arms
Alive
Felt

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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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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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The time will come when you will be forced to make a choice,” Hanalea said. “When that time comes, choose love.
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She padded toward Han, barefoot, like a faerie startled out of a forest bower, bewitching mix of clan and flatland beauty.
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Just tell me you don't love me, and I'll let the matter drop. What? What I said. Just say, 'Rai, I don't love you and I never will'. It's that simple. Raisa, this is getting us nowhere. Say it!
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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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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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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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I have lost everything, Han thought. Then he corrected himself. Every time I think I’ve lost everything, I find there’s still something else to lose.
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Don't expect much and you won't be disappointed.
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You do not respond to an attempt on your life with a slap on the hand. Or a joke.
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That's what happens when you love someone... you notice and notice and notice.
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Her clothes still smoked from the wizard’s assault. But to him, she always smelled of flowers.
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I need to go to parties, Raisa mused, so I don't think so much.
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Ellen could have killed me, Jack said quietly, but she didn't. She saved my life. How come? Fitch demanded. After all this? Ellen turned scarlet and stared at the ground. Maybe none of my opponents ever gave me flowers before, she mumbled.
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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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And they always slept better with blades beneath their beds.
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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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You couldn’t keep your mouth shut? I’m calling you Glitterhair from now on. Or Talksalot.
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He swept Raisa up into his arms and kissed her like it was his first, last, and only
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