Some Laws Were Meant To Be Broken.

Wo Wei Ni Xie De,” He Said, As He Raised The Violin To His Left Shoulder, Tucking It Under His Chin. He Had Told Her Many Violinists Used A Shoulder Rest, But He Did Not: There Was A Slight Mark On The Side Of His Throat, Like A Permanent Bruise, Where The Violin Rested. “you — Made Something For Me?” Tessa Asked. “i Wrote Something For You,” He Corrected, With A Smile, And Began To Play.

In The End That Was The Choice You Made, And It Doesn't Matter How Hard It Was To Make It. It Matters That You Did.

He Wanted To Make Her Laugh. He Wanted To Sit And Listen To Her Talk About Books Until His Ears Fell Off. But All These Were Things He Could Not Want, Because They Were Things He Could Not Have, And Wanting What You Could Not Have Led To Misery And Madness.

I Love Reading Epic Fantasies And Big Fat Books And So I Really Wanted To Write One. I Think You Always Write What You Want To Read.

I Have The Benefit Of Experience Which Tells Me That Sulking Solves Nothing