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The only way to get what you want is to make them more afraid of you than they are of each other.

Cinda Williams Chima

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Cinda Williams Chima
Age: 72
Born: 1952
Born: January 1
Author
Novelist
Writer
Springfield
Ohio
Afraid
Way
Make

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(A)ny time you buy weapons, or build an army, you begin to look for an excuse to use them. Plus, you pose more of a threat to others.
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A fiction writer is never entirely alone. Her characters are constantly whispering in her ear.
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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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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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Her clothes still smoked from the wizard’s assault. But to him, she always smelled of flowers.
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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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Both Averill and Bayar were like actors speaking lines for their audience and not to each other.
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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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She had never felt more alive than when she lay dying in Han Alister's arms.
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Commander! Sir! Wake up! Jack surfaced from sleep, wondering who the commander was and wishing he'd respond so he could go back to sleep - until he remembered that he was the commander.
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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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But I don't want your throne. Then what do you want? You.
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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 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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He keeps this up, he's bound to be caught, she thought. And this time they'll dangle him for certain.
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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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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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It was one of the warm nights at the end of summer that makes promises that won't be kept.
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Don't expect much and you won't be disappointed.
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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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