50 Quotes About Short-story-collection

We should follow every supply that runs into the particular lake below, going upstream in terms of we can. When we do not find Drakes’ path, or even an additional, we should come back straight along,look yourself upward an additional way to obtain foods,and then do a similar for the next water for the south.

Father lied. The knowledge tasted bitter on her tongue. She folded the orb into a scarf she’d brought. It didn’t conceal its light, but it was better than carrying the orb through the halls exposed.

Those treasures were stolen from the village they destroyed. The man pulled out a carved wooden horse and the two boys grabbed it at the same time. They pulled at it, fighting for possession. Zane’s carving. He shook his head and looked away, fighting tears. His son’s skilled fingers could carve any image. He’d inherited his mother’s slender hands. Sweet revenge just became sweeter.

Fiction has been maligned for centuries as being "false," "untrue," yet good fiction provides more truth about the world, about life, and even about the reader, than can be found in non-fiction.

There’s several colonies setup on islands that have not been touched yet by Europeans and I’m sure some of them will be happy to take them in, also anyone that wants too can join my crew but I won’t force them to join, it will have to be their decision, either way it will be a though life for them but it will be a free life... their life and that’s all that really matters in the end... making your own decisions

I’m so glad I put a hot, naked guy on my Christmas wish list. I just didn’t think Santa would actually deliver one.

I’ve been asking you to marry me since we met! What more do you want?

I imagine I should have told it to you before? I love you, Sejal.I wish for you to become my wife.Recently I’ve also opened a shop in North Dakota and thinking that, just maybe, you love me too.

To live without a dream would be like living in a house without windows. How many of us will fulfill out dreams before the cobwebs of time cover the caverns of our minds ... (Mary M. Cushnie-Mansour)