#shadowland

Why they think everyone should be alike in making love when no one can even agree on what ice cream they like, I'll never know from Dark Citadel ↗

— Cherise Sinclair

#love

Ever, we are not defined by our things. It's not the clothes we wear, the cars that we drive, the art we acquire - it's not where we live - but how we live that defines us. It's our actions that are remembered long after we're gone. ↗

— Alyson Noel

#inspirational #shadowland #art

He comes, he sleeps, he goes. So the plot thickens. ↗

— Shadowlands

#shadowlands #writing #inspirational

But my attention’s elsewhere, drawn to that warm wonderful pull, the familiar loving essence that only belongs to one person—only belongs to him— Watching as Damen cuts through the water, board tucked under his arm, body so sculpted, so bronzed, Rembrandt would weep. Water sluicing behind him like a hot knife through butter, cleanly, fluidly, as though parting the sea. My lips part, desperate to speak, to call out his name and bring him back to me. But just as I’m about to, my eyes meet his and I see what he sees: me—hair tangled and wet—clothes twisted and clinging—frolicking in the ocean on a hot sunny day with Jude’s tanned strong arms still wrapped around me. I release myself from Jude’s grip, but it’s too late. Damen’s already seen me. Already moved on. Leaving me hollow, breathless, as I watch him retreat. No tulips, no telepathic message, just a sad, empty void left behind in his place. ↗

— Alyson Noel

#love