You ever had a hickey? I want to give you a hickey.Karl, we're not fourteen!Don't bloody care. I was in love with you when I was fourteen -- your neck owes me a hickey.(Karl & Elena)
At the sound of my name, those two worlds on either side of me collide, and my lips meet his. Time ceases to exist, and so, apparently does any logic that my mind is hanging on to. Logic would say that this is insane; every other fibre of my being says it's right.
He took the pen and book from her and faltered.“Just write anything – anything trivial that won't matter if it comes to pass.”“Erm...” God, he was useless at this.Elena's hair turned blue.“Hey!”“What?”“I don't want blue hair! What the hell did you write that for?”“It seemed trivial.”“Blue hair – blue? That's trivial? What if I can't undo it?”Karl stared at her blankly. His throat went dry. He felt like a total dickhead, but writing really wasn't his strong point, so he went for humour instead and flashed her a grin.“I was going to write that all your clothes fall off, but figured you may have a problem with that. This was the second thing that came to mind.”(Karl and Elena)
Maybe I should be still; accept my fate. But I have tasted freedom, known love – I have had choice and learnt what it is to have a human heart, not just a compliant one.
The thought of talking about it made Pueblo's gut ache, but then he thought of everything that Amy had been through – not that she'd told him her version yet. She had balls of steel, he thought with a smile. And what did he have? Three pairs of loin cloths going crisp on the radiator.
It took Pueblo a few seconds to take in his surroundings. The first thing he realised was that he felt bruised all over; the second was that his clothes were waterlogged, even more than before, from the quicksand; and the third, was that he had landed on his front and was lying on a large, uncomfortable stone.No, wait… In his disoriented state, he shifted his weight. The stone didn't move. He was lying on his own fucking erection.
Til death do us part....The words wrap around my mind like soft, silk binds, and I cherish the imagery. Eternity can only be with this man – there will never be another who knows me so well.
...we're not eighteen anymore. We've lived. We've created things that last – things of joy, and things of burden.
One thing I’ve learnt about humans: you can’t judge their strength by the size of their actions, but by the devotion of an act, no matter how small.
Elena glanced up at him, taking in his words. “If you get rid of your fear? You know, I never look at you as someone who’s afraid.”“That’s because every time you look at me, I’m looking right back, and the only time I’m not afraid, is when I see you. And I do see you, Elena. I see everything you’ve been through, from so young – how you struggled through it; how you never let it destroy your hope and faith – and I’m afraid of nothing.(Karl and Elena)
Real choices – the ones that changed you and shaped you – were never made with the head, but on the beat of a heart that saw a future it couldn't live without.
...today, I’m writing about the extraordinary; those ‘moments’ in life that reach us, and change us. Those moments take place all the time, really – it’s just that we’re taught not to notice. We’re taught that whims are for the foolish; that instinct and passion are more akin to fairy tales than reality; that they won’t get us very far, and everyone would laugh at us if they knew what we really held close to our hearts.It’s a lie we allow ourselves, and it’s understandable.But it’s simply not true.
How we take it for granted – those trivial conversations, those mundane moments that we think hold no meaning. We never realise how much we rely on the ordinariness of everyday life. When love is gone – when our entire world is gone – only then do we understand those moments are what we live for.
Every sacred mission, every hunt for hidden relics, every pilgrimage from one end of the earth to the other … I was looking for you.
We must be careful with our words – we’re like superheroes and words are like our super powers. Super powers should always be used to help others…
We were immortal, did you know that? Did you feel it like me? We had the world at our feet and we were going to live forever. Then came life – growing inside you – and I became mortal.
Hope – or perhaps delusion – was a flame that had stayed lit, even though its scorching light would hurt. It had refused to go out.
It certainly is a puzzle.” He turned back to the broken road. “But sometimes to find the answer, you have to take a leap of faith.
She waited for him with shallow breaths, head thrown back, eyes half closed, completely exposed in her trust of him, and it unravelled the last thread holding him together.
Grief came in waves, sometimes big, sometimes small, but even on the calmest days, the grief remained. The tide still came ashore.
I'm hoping you end up happily married to the man of your dreams and have a hoard of beautiful kids that'll keep you on your toes by turning your neighbours into various types of pond-life. He then shot her his signature grin. But if it happens to be me, then I wouldn't say no.(Karl to Elena in The Witching Pen)
He pulled out a dagger from ... she wasn't sure where. Did he have that in his loin cloth? What else does he have in there? (Amy's thoughts, The Witching Pen)
Then, things get hard, because once you know magic exists, you have to decide whether to be the bystander, or the magician … and we were all born to be magicians.
She almost never said his name. Because it made the dreams too real. Because it made the loneliness too tangible when she woke up.
He could have watched her all night. He could watch her for an eternity and still never be able to capture the essence of what it is that makes ‘love’.
Half naked, he drank her in with his eyes, imprinting this moment into his mind. This, he would take to his death – the woman that stirred him to life.
It’s only through the degradation of the soul that you can know who you really are; when all else is stripped away, leaving you bare.” Somehow, his black eyes darkened, the venom in his words more deadly than a viper’s bite. “Let me degrade you, Katherine.
Don’t be sorry for the truth. A harsh truth is less damaging than a tender lie, and the worst lies are the ones we tell ourselves.