We wandered shyly hand in hand,
small footprints in the golden sand,
and gathered pearls and shells in pails,
while all about the nightingales
were singing in the trees.
We dug for silver with our spades,
and caught the sparkle of the sea,
then ran ashore to greenlit glades,
and found the warm and winding lane
that now we cannot find again,
between tall whispering trees.

- Little House of Lost Play, Tolkien

He snorted. “There are no true knights, no more than there are gods. If you can’t protect yourself, die and get out of the way of those who can. Sharp steel and strong arms rule this world, don’t ever believe any different.”
Sansa backed away from him. “You’re awful.”
“I’m honest. It’s the world that’s awful. Now fly away, little bird, I’m sick of you peeping at me.”
Wordless, she fled. She was afraid of Sandor Clegane . . . and yet, some part of her wished that Ser Dontos had a little of the Hound’s ferocity. There are gods, she told herself, and there are true knights too. All the stories can’t be lies.

- A Clash of Kings, George R. R. Martin

Helllllo. To anyone who might have stumbled here for no reason whatsoever:

My name's Alisa (not Alissa or Alyssa, Alisa) and I'm twenty years old. (:

I attend college as of Fall 2008.

I like to write and whatnot, apparently.

I also have a habit of starting things and taking a long time to finish. D: So sorry.

To all of my readers, I appreciate your reviews immensely!
I am extremely grateful to everyone who has taken the time to read and/or comment on my work. Thank you very much for your words. =)