Once upon a time, in the days before Social Security or insurance companies, there lived a miller and his daughter, Della, who were fairly well-off and reasonably happy until the day their mill burned down.

It’s difficult to tell which of those brothers is more foolish,” Grandmother whispered to Isolda, “Jakob or Wilhelm. They live in a fantasy world of their own.” Shaking her head, Isolda agreed. “Those Grimm brothers,” she said with a sigh, “they’ll never amount to anything.” And she was right because all they ever became was writers.

Those Grimm brothers,” she said with a sigh, “they’ll never amount to anything.” And she was right because all they ever became was writers.

Little girls who hang around with vampires need to get used to dead things... In fact, little girls who hang around with vampires already are with dead things.

Some things are just straw, and some things are gold, and sometimes you just have to know which is which.

Don’t,” she begged, knowing that surely she was trying his patience, that his kindness would stretch just so far, that if he were truly kind he could never have survived as a vampire.

And it was Rumpelstiltskin who chose the name for Della’s baby girl. He called her Abigail, which means “a father’s joy.

If you don’t like vampire games, don’t play.

Giannine – What are they going to do: smack me on the head with a pamplet?

They’d poisoned me, dammit. Probably to trade my dead body to the barbarians for Wulfgar’s safe return. Or maybe just for the fun of it.