The ceiling was curved, giving the space a cave-like feel, and it was either very large, very small, or sort of normal-sized.
John StephensMots clés the-emerald-atlas
I do not know what happened with your parents or why they did what they did. But in all the world, I could have wished for no daughter but you.
John StephensMots clés the-emerald-atlas
But I guess everything in life is a bit disappointing, isn't it?
John StephensMots clés the-emerald-atlas
To a casual passerby, his appearance would not have inspired much confidence. His overcoat was patched in spots and frayed at the cuffs, he wore an old tweed suit that was missing a button, his white shirt was stained with ink and tobacco, and his tie--this was perhaps the strangest of all--was knotted not once, but twice, as if he'd forgotten whether he'd tied it and, rather than glancing down to check, had simply tied it again for good measure. His white hair poked out from beneath his hat, and his eyebrows rose from his forehead like great snowy horns, curling over a pair of bent and patched tortoiseshell glasses. All in all, he looked like someone who'd gotten dressed in the midst of a whirlwind and, thinking he still looked too presentable, had thrown himself down a flight of stairs.
It was when you looked in his eyes that everything changed.
Reflecting no light save their own, they shone brightly in the snow-muffled night, and there was in them a look of such uncommon energy and kindness and understanding that you forgot entirely about the tobacco and ink stains on his shirt and the patches on his glasses and that his tie was knotted twice over. You looked in them and knew that you were in the presence of true wisdom.
Time, Kate was learning, was like a river. You might put up obstacles, even divert it briefly, but the river had a will of it's own. It wanted to flow a certain way. You had to force it to change. You had to be willing to sacrifice.
John StephensThe point of life isn't to avoid pain. The point of life is to be alive! To feel things. That means the good and the bad. There'll be pain. But also joy, and friendship and love. And it's worth it, believe me.
John StephensMots clés life pain love sorrow feelings worth the-fire-chronicle
Your H-Highness...," Michael stammered, "I-I wish I'd had a chance to prepare some remarks.
John StephensHe demanded I tell him all I knew. I refused. He threatened me. Still, I refused. He became irate. He screamed. He spat. He threw plates. Overturned tables. He punched his minister of culture.
John StephensBoy," Emma muttered, "are they in for it.
John StephensHe was crazy, Michael thought, but he appeared to be nice-crazy, and not I'll-kill-you-I'll-kill-you crazy.
John StephensPage 1 de 2.
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