Carlala Ruiz

“Un buen sueño era algo a lo que te aferrabas hasta el último momento antes de despertar.”
― Veronica Rossi, Through the Ever Night

“ Then he told Perry that love was like the waves in the sea, gentle and good sometimes, rough and terrible at others, but that it was endless and stronger than the sky and the earth and everything in between.”
― Veronica Rossi, Through the Ever Night

“Tessa exploded "I am not asking you to maul me in the Whispering Gallery! By the Angel, Will, would you stop being so polite?!"
He looked at her in amazement. "But wouldn't you rather-"
"I would not rather. I don't want you to be polite! I want you to be Will! I don't want you to indicate points of architectural interest to me as if you were a Baedecker guide! I want you to say dreadfully mad, funny things, and make up songs and be-" The Will I fell in love with, she almost said. "And be Will," she finished instead. "Or I shall strike you with my umbrella."
"I am trying to court you," Will said in exasperation. "Court you properly. That's what all this has been about. You know that, don't you?"
"Mr. Rochester never courted Jane Eyre," Tessa pointed out.
"No, he dressed up as a woman and terrified the poor girl out of her wits. Is that what you want?"
"You would make a very ugly woman."
"I would not. I would be stunning."
Tessa laughed. "There," she said. "There is Will. Isn't that better? Don't you think so?"
"I don't know," Will said, eyeing her. I'm afraid to answer that. I've heard that when I speak, it makes American women wish to strike me with umbrellas."
Tessa laughed again, and then they were both laughing, their smothered giggles bouncing off the walls of the Whispering Gallery. After that, things were decidedly easier between them, and Will's smile when he helped her down from the carriage on their return home, was bright and real.”
― Cassandra Clare, Clockwork Princess

“The dozen gulls by the shoreline came to meet him, none saying a word. He felt only that he was welcome and that this was home. It had been a big day for him, a day whose sunrise he no longer remembered.”
― Richard Bach, Jonathan Livingston Seagull