Have you seen Marcus?" he asked his ugly friend.
"Yes, he was stoping some people in the Violet Room from climbing the curtains."
"What for?"
"They were not professionals."
"Oh.

Ellen Kushner

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Let the fairy tale begin on a winter's morning, then, with one drop of blood newly-fallen on the ivory snow: a drop as bright as a clear-cut ruby, red as a single spot of claret on the lace cuff.

Ellen Kushner

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Richard knew he was fighting for his life, and he was terribly happy.

Ellen Kushner

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The time of testing, and of playing, was over. This was the final duel for one of them. Now they were fighting for their lives--for the one life that would emerge from this elegant battle. . . . For the moment the two of them were evenly matched, arm against arm. Michael prayed that it would never stop, that there would always be this moment of utter mastery, beautiful and rare, and no conclusion ever be reached.

Ellen Kushner

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although he was at core a rotten being, no one could fault him for style.

Ellen Kushner

Tags: style

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I let the insults go by. A good swordsman doesn't pay attention to words in a fight.

Ellen Kushner

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