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He -it- was a specter! I stepped back, stunned.

Gail Carson Levine

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Gail Carson Levine
Age: 77
Born: 1947
Born: September 17
Author
Writer
New York
United States
Back
Specter
Stunned
Stepped

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I trust you to find the good in me, but the bad I must be sure you don't overlook.
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Would you favor me with a dance? Over all the others I was his choice! I curtsied, and he took my hand. Our hands knew each other. Char looked at me, startled. Have we met before, Lady?
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To pretend I was sliding down the stair rail. He laughed again. You should have done it. I would have caught you at the bottom.
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He bowed. 'The young lady must not dance alone.
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I know all about you, Char announced after we'd taken a few more steps. You do? How could you? Your cook and our cook meet at the market. She talks about you. He looked sideways at me. Do you know much about me?
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He is flawless, without a blemish. Majesic . . . muscular.
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Although we didn't invite Lucinda, she arrived anyway-with a gift. No need, Char and I chimed together. Remember when you were a squirrel, Mandy said.
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There's nothing wrong with reading a book you love over and over.
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I rode all day. I cried all night. The moon didn’t glow. The sun didn’t rise. A comet blazed Between my eyes. West and South, Wind and rain. Every way is Just the same. Pray give me a box To hide inside. Pray give me a spade To dig my own grave.
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Father asks frequently in his letters whether I fancy any Ayorthaian young lady or any in our acquaintance at home. I say no I suppose I'm confessing another fault: pride. I don't want him to know that I love if my affections are not returned
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But my last conscious thought was an image of Prince Char when he'd caught the bridle of Sir Stephan's horse. His face had been close to mine. Two curls had spilled onto his forehead. A few freckles dusted his nose, and his eyes said he was sorry for me to go.
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When I write, I make discoveries about my feelings.
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I shan't marry a prince!
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Fate...may...be...thwarted.
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I wonder how Admat can be everywhere. Is he in my sandal? Or is he my sandal itself? Why would a god bother to be a sandal? Does he wear shoes or sandals himself, invisible ones?
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And so, with laughter and love, we lived happily ever after.
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Who judges the judge who judges wrong?
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The Writer's Oath I promise solemnly: 1. to write as often and as much as I can, 2. to respect my writing self, and 3. to nurture the writing of others. I accept these responsibilities and shall honor them always.
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It is helpful to know the proper way to behave, so one can decide whether or not to be proper.
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In books and in life, you need to read several pages before someone's true character is revealed.
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