Allison

“I am afraid that she is a coquette, for she is always flirting with the wind.”
― Oscar Wilde, The Happy Prince

“There was a door, but it was terribly bashful, so Auri politely pretended not to see it.”
― Patrick Rothfuss, The Slow Regard of Silent Things

“In his comfortable coffin, face veiled in dark silk, eyes open or closed, Pan Loudermilk lies waiting, a player from a tribe never stilled so much as gathered, potential as potent as a knife in the scabbard, a poem in the mind, a wind that rises as a breeze in the tropics, later to lash the wintry coastline, and smash its boats and sailors on the shore. Or perhaps that is purest make-believe, as a puppet is only a tool, made of wood, and wool, and wire. As we are blood, and fancy, and bites of bone and dream.”
― Kathe Koja, Under the Poppy

“Laying in the dark, she wondered what the day would bring. Some days were trumpet-proud. They heralded like thunder. Some were courteous, careful as a lettered card upon a silver plate.

But some days were shy. They did not name themselves. They waited for a careful girl to find them.”
― Patrick Rothfuss, The Slow Regard of Silent Things