There looked upon him from under a marten-skin hood eyes such as he had never seen in his life, black, satinlike, liquid, full of life and fire. Above those eyes dark velvety brows were defined in two delicate arches; her blushing face bloomed like the most beautiful flower, and through her slightly opened lips of raspberry hue were seen teeth like pearls, and from under her hood flowed out rich dark tresses.”

Pity does not get you aid. Admiration at your refusal to give in does.

When the snows fall and the white winds blow,

the lone wolf dies but  t h e  p a c k  s u r v i v e s .


"I have this feeling of protectiveness over characters I want to play. I worry about them-if someone else gets the part, I’m afraid they won’t do it right; they’ll make the character a victim or they’ll make her a villain or they’ll just get it wrong somehow… When I get like that, anything’s possible.

There are times when I look at people and I see nothing worth liking.