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Her nightmare clung to her like the smell of smoke to cloth.

Shannon Hale

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Shannon Hale
Age: 50
Born: 1974
Born: January 26
Author
Fantasy Author
Novelist
Screenwriter
Writer
Salt Lake City
Utah
Clung
Cloth
Nightmare
Smoke
Smell
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She closed the book and put her cheek against it. There was still an odor of a library on it, of dust, leather, binding glue, and old paper, one book carrying the smell of hundreds.
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Even the jerks earn some of our affection. We can be glad they're gone and yet still mourn the good parts.
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The to Cathal was battered and only one wagon wide, with swells of hard earth where mud had frozen during cold ad rainy seasons. Enna tripped often, and cursed each time she tripped, until Dasha said, Enna, you might watch your language. Enna grimaced. I was. You should hear my thoughts.
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Really, becoming a writer sounds more like a mental illness than a professional choice.
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The woman gestured to a seat and put on a patient face. An impatient sort of patient face, like an impatient face dressing up as a patient one for Halloween.
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I know I would crumble if I lost you.
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... If we don't tell strange stories, when something strange happens we won't believe it.
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If we're mad, we're mad in large numbers, at least larger than yours.
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Just like the old adage--what you dislike most in other people is what you dislike the most in yourself--
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Why was the judgement of the disapproving so valuable? Who said that their good opinions tended to be any more rational than those of generally pleasant people?
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...all things speak, in their way, don't they?
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WANTED: DEAD OR ALIVE: RAPUNZEL For horse thieving, kidnapping, jail breaking, and using her hair in a manner other than nature intended! REWARD
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. . . as long as there are movement and harmony, there are words.
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Your head will be fine,” said Miri. “It’s your neck you should worry about.
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... and with my last thought I felt some real sympathy for those poor chickens.
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It is a truth universally acknowledged that a thirty-something woman in possession of a satisfying career and fabulous hairdo must be in want of very little
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Time is a wind that keeps blowing in my face and mumbling words that don't make sense.
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Some people are born with the first word of a language resting on their tongue though it may take some time before they can taste it.
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She was born Anidori-Kiladra Talianna Isilee, Crown Princess of Kildenree, and she did not open her eyes for three days.
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She put a wedge beside my heart And then she brought the mallet down She sang no song to guide her work I lost my heart without a sound
Shannon Hale