Is this a story or just an update on what is going on with your book?
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Strick sighed defeatedly and approached the innkeeper, digging in his cloak for any coins. “I apologize in advance for any inconveniences.”
“Oh, no! He’s no… inconvenience!” The innkeeper stuttered with a shake of his head, his eyes wide and unfocused.
Strick smiled. “Save your flattery. Trust me, he will be.”
"Are you blind, Gietan? Whatever I adore I manage to spurn. Whatever I love I sentence to death. Whatever I touch I destroy! Were it not for my aching heart, I would choose not to love and then mayhap my life would rise from its shambles. For if I had chosen simply not to love, he would have lived,” she cried.
"Are you blind, Gietan? Whatever I adore I manage to spurn. Whatever I love I sentence to death. Whatever I touch I destroy! Were it not for my aching heart, I would choose not to love and then mayhap my life would rise from its shambles. For if I had chosen simply not to love, he would have lived,” she cried.
Are you blind, Gietan? Whatever I adore, I manage to spurn; whatever I love, I sentence to death. Whatever I touch[*,] I destroy! Were not for my aching heart, I would choose not to love and then[*,] mayhap[*,] my life would rise from its shambles. (For) (I)if I had chosen simply not to love, he would have lived," she cried.
Writersdomain wrote:I think I have read too much Shakespeare lately.
And I have found my new favorite quote:"Are you blind, Gietan? Whatever I adore I manage to spurn. Whatever I love I sentence to death. Whatever I touch I destroy! Were it not for my aching heart, I would choose not to love and then mayhap my life would rise from its shambles. For if I had chosen simply not to love, he would have lived,” she cried.
By the way, do I need commas after the 'whatever I blanks'?
He cleared his throat. Setting his jaw in determination, Larckes stared down at the figure and announced in a deep voice. “I would ask a favor of you.”
The figure lifted his head and two eyes penetrated the shadows that lingered in the corners of the house. Frigid, swirling, they flashed with subtle recognition and a soft, mordant voice spoke out of the thick darkness. “You would ask a favor of a dead man?”
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