Killing Is Easy," Said Mo, "dying Is

I Always Wanted To Ride A Dragon Myself, So I Decided To Do This For A Year In My Imagination.

There Could Be Few Men Whose Love For A Woman Had Been Written On His Face With A Knife.

Who Are You?' Mo Looked At The White Women. Then He Looked At Dustfinger's Still Face. Guess.' The Bird Ruffled Up Its Golden Feathers, And Mo Saw That The Mark On Its Breast Was Blood. You Are Death.' Mo Felt The Word Heavy On His Tongue. Could Any Word Be Heavier?

A Library Book, I Imagine, Is A Happy Book.

I Like To Visit My Horse, Have A Walk With My Dog.