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Little by little, the old world crumbled, and not once did the king imagine that some of the pieces might fall on him.

Jennifer Donnelly

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Jennifer Donnelly
Age: 55
Born: 1969
Born: August 29
Author
Novelist
Writer
Port Chester
New York
Imagine
Fall
Littles
Little
Might
Crumbled
World
King
Kings
Pieces

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He's wearing boots, a kilt, and a long-sleeve tee. No coat, even though it's December. Beautiful people don't need coats. They've got their auras to keep them warm.
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I played a role. That is what actors do. But I played it too well. I went too far. And by the time I wanted to stop, to take a bow and leave the stage, it was too late.
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Never take what's offered, always ask for more.
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I play until my fingertips are raw. Until I rip a nail and bleed on the strings. Until my hands hurt so bad I forget my heart does.
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She was everything he wanted from his life, the very measure of his dreams.
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He loves the sparkling fountains and their cascades and says the strangest things as he watches them. they look like stars breaking. Or, They look like Mama's diamonds. Or, They look like all the souls in heaven.
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We're not punished for our sins, lad. We're punished by them.
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Funny, 'ow you can 'old a jewel in your 'and, and toss it away, and not even know what you 'ad until it's gone.
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It is hope, not despair, that undoes us all.
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Who knew that listening to a guy sleep could be so much deeper than sleeping with a guy.
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You can't argue with the dead, no matter what you say, they always have the last word.
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She was his soulmate, as much a part of him as the very flesh and bone that made him. She was with him, in him, in everything he did. She was everything he wanted from his life, the very measure of his dreams.
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The King walks. He nods. His glance is like God's touch - under it all things spring to life. A wave of his hand and a hundred musicians tear into the Handel, making a sound you've never heard before, and never will again. A sound that goes through you, through flesh and bone, and reorders the very beat of your heart.
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Come on you raver, you seer of visions, come on you painter, you piper, you prisoner, and shine.
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One expects decent people to stand up for the good of all. Decent people shut their doors and hide behind them as decent people do. Massacres could never happen if it weren't for decent people.
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There was a basket at her feet. She reached into it and lifted out the head of a young woman, a marquise. She wore Bourbon white to her death, but wears the tricolor now - white cheeks, blue lips, red dripping from her neck. Long live the revolution.
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Why is it that weeks and months and years go by so quickly, all in a blur, but moments last forever?
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There is a ghost here. A lonely, heartbroken spirit. The ghost of everything that could've been and never was.
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The guitar's still around me. I slip it off and put it down. I want to feel him. To feel his breath on my neck. The warmth of his skin. To feel something other than sadness. Hold me, I tell him silently. Hold me here. To this place. This life. Make me want you. Want this. Want something. Please
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I grew up on a mixed diet of mass and class, and I still read that way. I hate it when people apologize for what they read. Some bestsellers aren't exactly literary. So what? They're fun and rip-roaring, Who instituted the book police and why do we have to answer them? Grrrrr!
Jennifer Donnelly