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He keeps this up, he's bound to be caught, she thought. And this time they'll dangle him for certain.

Cinda Williams Chima

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Cinda Williams Chima
Age: 72
Born: 1952
Born: January 1
Author
Novelist
Writer
Springfield
Ohio
Thought
Certain
Time
Dangle
Bound
Bounds
Keeps
Caught

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A vocation is not something you slap on, like a coat of paint, and change whenever you want. A vocation is built into you. You have no choice. If you try to do something else, you fail.
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She had never felt more alive than when she lay dying in Han Alister's arms.
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Han made no effort to put up a brave front. Most of the time he just screamed himself hoarse, though a couple of times he amused himself by screaming Fionas's name as if he were in the throes of passion. FEEE-OHHH-NAAA! Lord Bayar made him pay for that, but afterward, Fiona didn't come down anymore, which Han appreciated.
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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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Tears stung her eyes. She sank her knees next to the sleeping bench and gently raked strands of golden hair from him forehead. Don't you die. don't you dare. I forbid it. As if Han Alister had ever listened to anything she said.
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Don't expect much and you won't be disappointed.
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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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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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But maybe it's better to go after something, and not get it, than to not even try.
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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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Just because you're the enemy of my enemy don't mean you're my friend, Han thought.
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Plus he was naturally lucky at cards. As Mam had always said, lucky at cards, or lucky at life. One or the other. Not both.
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A fiction writer is never entirely alone. Her characters are constantly whispering in her ear.
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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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He swept Raisa up into his arms and kissed her like it was his first, last, and only
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As for my family, my father was Danel he died as a mercenary in the southern wars, Han went on. My mother's name was Sarah, called Sali, and my sister was Mari. They died last summer. But then, you already knew that. Every time you forget, I'll remind you. That's the blood sacrifice I made to be here, and that's enough.
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And they always slept better with blades beneath their beds.
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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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