There was no normal. There never had been. "Normal" and "natural" were the biggest lies we'd ever created.
I was not a rebellious teenager. I was a sit-in-your-room teenager.
I fell even more deeply in love with Tolkiens legendarium after studying Old English literature at uni, as I got a sense of the historical events and cultures that Tolkien used to create his world. My favourite of his imaginary locations is Lothlorien.
I always felt that sci-fi and fantasy were my thing. Bit of a geek, Im afraid. But I like creating worlds, and I felt it was a genre that gave me more freedom. It just seemed like I belonged there.
I was born in 1991, and Harry Potter came out in 97, so, you know, I was really obsessed. I used to read them in one night.
Nothing’s worse than a story without an end.
Words are everything. Words give wings even to those who have been stamped upon, broken beyond all hope of repair.
I'm often daydreaming, and it's because I've always liked the idea of there being something more than the normal world.
Writing a novel is like knocking on a door that will never open. You are so desperate to get in, you will say or do anything. You feel: please take my novel,
Knowledge is dangerous. Once you know something, you can't get rid of it. You have to carry it. Always.
I don't know. I just want you with me. I had never said those words aloud. Now that I could taste my freedom I wanted him to share it with me. But he couldn't change his life for me. And I couldn't sacrifice my life to be with him
Not all of us know what we are. Some of us die without ever knowing. Some of us know, and never get caught. But we're out there. Trust me.
My father thought I would lead a simple life; that I was bright but unambitious, complacant with whatever work life threw at me. My father, as usual, was wrong.
They'd branded me like some kind of animal. Lower than an animal. A number.
There are certain things in life that you never forget. Things that dig deep, things that nest in the hadal zone.
I would never see him again. But as I watched the tunnel race before my eyes, I was certain of one thing: I did trust him. Now I had only to trust in myself.
I do not know what I can do for this world but I will not let any harm come to you
his thumbs ran over my cheeks. Our foreheads touched. My dreamscape scorched. He set fire to the poppies
I looked at him and he looked at me. A moment. A choice. My choice. His choice.
I like to imagine there were more of us in the beginning. Not many, I suppose. But more than there are now.
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