That doesn't happen$$$ she explained. "Stars fall. They don't go back up again."<br/>"You could be the first$$$" he told her.

It was a dream$$$ and in dreams you have no choices: either there are no decisions to be made$$$ or they were made for you long before ever the dream began.

However you must have sensed a lurking 'but' skulking beneath my happy$$$ blithe$$$ and chipper exterior. A minuscule vexation$$$ like the teeniest lump of raw liver sticking to the inside of my boot.

We don't do spells$$$ she said. She sounded a little disappointed to admit it. "We'll do recipes sometimes. But no spells or cantrips. Gran doesn't hold with none of that. She says it's common."

Mr. Vandemar showed them his teeth$$$ demonstrating his sunny and delightful disposition. It was unquestionably the most horrible thing Richard had ever seen.

So$$$ he asked. "How's death?"<br/>"Hard$$$" she said. "It just keeps going."

There was a skyness to the sky and a nowness to the world that he had never seen or felt or realized before.

To be a good writer... read a lot and write every day.

The moonlight was enough. It would do.

DEATH: "Mostly they aren't too keen to see me. They fear the sunless lands. But they enter your realm each night without fear."<br/>MORPHEUS: "And I am far more terrible than you$$$ sister."