Are you—are you sad?” —No. “But your—your songs are sad.” —My songs are of time and distance. The sadness is in you. Watch my arms. There is only the dance. These things you treasure are shells. “I—I knew that. Once.

I am a caricature of what British science is about in the way I work.

There's nothing like the word dangerous to generate interest: it's irresistible to young males, scary to most young females.

But then, his revenge had been more direct. He’d hunted down the ones who’d killed his sister and nephew – those who’d survived his mother’s attack – and he’d made them wish they’d never been born with nerve endings.' (Acheron)

Written By Sherrilyn Kenyon

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