“I didn’t want to listen to Rook offering me roses whose perfume would make me forget all my childhood memories, or diamonds that would make me care for nothing but gems ever after, or goose down that would steal away… — Margaret Rogerson Copy Share Image
“I quite like eggs,” I replied firmly, well aware that the enchantments he described would all turn strange and sour, even deadly, in the… — Margaret Rogerson Copy Share Image
“Why do we desire, above all other things, that which has the greatest power to destroy us?” — Margaret Rogerson Copy Share Image
“They looked like a pair of cupids who had decided they liked shooting people with real arrows better. They were horrible. I loved them… — Margaret Rogerson Copy Share Image
“I didn’t want to listen to Rook offering me roses whose perfume would make me forget all my childhood memories, or diamonds that would… — Margaret Rogerson Copy Share Image
“I wondered if my head and heart would ever reconcile, or whether I'd just cursed myself to relive this moment for the rest of… — Margaret Rogerson Copy Share Image
“Walking along a blade’s edge was only fun until the blade stopped being a metaphor.” — Margaret Rogerson Copy Share Image
“Frankly, I had no idea how anyone knew if they were in love in the first place. Was there ever a single thread a… — Margaret Rogerson Copy Share Image
“When terrible things have happened to you, sometimes the promise of something good can be just as frightening.” — Margaret Rogerson Copy Share Image
“You are empty,” I said, my throat working, “and cruel.” “Ah. Yes, now that is true. Would you like to know the greatest secret… — Margaret Rogerson Copy Share Image
“But isn’t absurdity part of being human? We aren’t ageless creatures who watch centuries pass from afar. Our worlds are small, our lives are… — Margaret Rogerson Copy Share Image
“What must it be like? To meet someone, to forge a connection, all in the span of one golden afternoon—only to find out that… — Margaret Rogerson Copy Share Image
“Yet no matter what they were doing, everyone in the forest waited with an indrawn breath, waiting for the taste of autumn, the smell… — Margaret Rogerson Copy Share Image
