She moved like a poem and smiled like a sphinx.

If only it were that easy to let go of hate. Just relax your face.

I think with world building, it’s important to create a sense of culture even if it is just a fantasy, and the best way to do that is to look at a real human culture...

I’m afraid they’re in love,” he said, concerned. “They don’t want to leave you.” He lifted one hand from her waist to gently brush a pair from her neck, where their wings fanned against her...

…something was starting to take shape, out of magic and will. Smoke and bone.

El amor es un elemento… Como el aire que se respira, o el suelo que se pisa.

Beautiful men and women with distorted shadows came and scorched their handprints onto doors before vanishing skyward, drafts of heat billowing behind them with the whumph of unseen wings. Here and there, feathers fell, and...

All evening long, real snow would fall from the ceiling to glitter on the lashes of dancing girls and ardent boys, but Neve and the Dreamer didn’t linger. They had other things to do: *all*...

ignorance and power, they´re a poor combination.

It’s like all my life I’ve been this tower standing at the edge of the ocean for some obscure purpose, and only now, almost eighteen years in, has someone thought to flip the switch that...

It was brave,” countered Issa. “It was rare. It was love, and it was beautiful.

For the way loneliness is worse when you return to it after a reprieve—like the soul’s version of putting on a wet bathing suit, clammy and miserable.

Some kinds of misery make you hate the world, but some kinds make you hate yourself, and–butter and cheese not withstanding–Neve had no question that Spear was the latter.

It’s easy to get published once you have written a really good book and the hard part, 99 percent of what you need to worry about, is really finishing it.

And they were quiet but their blood and nerves and butterflies were not—they were rampantly alive, rushing and thrumming in a wild and perfect melody, matched note for note.

The door opened. She looked in the mirror and suppressed a curse. Slipping in behind some tourists, that winged shadow was back again. Karou rose and made for the bathroom, where she took the note...

Érase una vez un ángel y un demonio que se enamoraron. Pero su historia no tuvo un final feliz

His lips made a grim twist that was like the joyless cousin of a smile.