Waterfall (River of Time #1)

An armed woman will be more of a target knights on the prowl.
and unarmed women can find themselves without defines

Courage is not the absence of fear, but the decision that something is more important than fear.

Don't you agree? Swordplay is a dance of sorts, an understanding of the logical, most sophisticated next step. Except that in a fight, one must take the unexpected step. In dance it is all about taking the right, expected step.

Fantasizing about an Italian hottie was far better than my normal dreams.

fortes fortuna adiuvat," Marcello had said to his men. Fortune favors the brave, the bold.

How good it felt, to do some good, here and there. Perhaps this was what it meant to be an adult. To grab the opportunity at hand, make the most of the day, regardless of what it looked like.

I am here for a reason. This is no haphazard mistake. What good can I do with what I have?

I finally meet a guy who's interesting and who seems to have a half-interest in me and it is TOTALLY the wrong time and place.

I nodded, pretending to be a hundred times more courageous than I felt.
But that was the thing about courage. Sometimes you had to fake it to feel it.

I read once that courage is not the absence of fear, but the decision that something is more important than that fear.

My kingdom for a flush toilet.

Perhaps this was what it meant to be an adult. To grab the opportunity at hand, make the most of the day, regardless of what it looked like.

She glanced left and right, all wide-eyed and innocent. Innocent as a streetwalker.

Si.

Sometimes the heart tells us to venture where the mind fears to tread.

We all have freedom of choice. Over and over again, minute by minute. How will you live your life? For yourself Or for others? For something good? For love?

We all have freedom of choice. Over and over again, minute by minute. How will you live your life? For yourself Or for others? For something good? For love? Love.

We froze. Neither of us moving, simply staring at each other, wondering if the other was going to move first. "You are," he whispered, "uncommonly stirring." He closed his eyes then, as if he had to in order to break the bond between us, then lifted me to the saddle and stared at the ground as he guided my feet into the stirrups.

What could I do, to make the most of this day, whether I was in my own day, or this one? What amazing history was I seeing firsthand? Would I embrace it, instead of crying and whining? Was it in me to be grateful for my situation? Truly in me?