What’s Your Name, Then? ”tessa Looked At

Wo Wei Ni Xie De,” He Said, As He Raised The Violin To His Left Shoulder, Tucking It Under His Chin. He Had Told Her Many Violinists Used A Shoulder Rest, But He Did Not: There Was A Slight Mark On The Side Of His Throat, Like A Permanent Bruise, Where The Violin Rested. “you — Made Something For Me?” Tessa Asked. “i Wrote Something For You,” He Corrected, With A Smile, And Began To Play.

He Grabbed For The Coatrack That Stood By The Door, Ripped The Coats Off It, And Flung The Door Wide, The Rack Held Above His Head Like A Javelin. On The Other Side Of The Door Was Jace. He Blinked. "is That A Coatrack?

There Was A Man Who Was Worthless, And Knew He Was Worthless, And Yet However Far Down He Tried To Sink His Soul, There Was Always Some Part Of Him Capable Of Great Action.

If I’d Just Listened—just Taken One Second To Listen—it Wouldn’t Have Happened

I Love Your Name. I Love The Sound Of It