Quotes from james riley

So what's the point, then, if we can't be happy? Why are we doing any of this? Oh, there's definitely happiness, Jack said, turning his back on the ocean and looking at her. But it's just about moments, not ever-afters. He grinned. Like when you're right in the middle of the ocean with your friends, with no one trying to kill you in any kind of horrifying way. You have to appreciate these moments when they happen, 'cause obviously we don't get many of them.

Jack turned red,I kinda let a princess die. His grandfather groaned. You do realize that's not a good thing to do, right? the old man asked. So I'm told.

The ship itself was about as long as a football field, or some other really long thing, given that may honestly could never remember how long football fields were. A hundred yards? That was like three hundred feet, wasn't it? The boat did seem long, but she was over five feet tall herself, and that's be like sixty of her end to end. Only sixty? Or was that a lot of herselves? Stupid analogies. The boat was big, that should cover it.

Embrace the impossible! Find the magic within! BE MORE FICTIONAL.

Kiel just winked

I was actually thinking about writing, maybe, Owen said. About Charm? Kiel asked, raising an eyebrow. No? Owen said, probably a bit too fast too be believable. I have some other ideas.

Kiel pulled his arm out of Owen's grasp and stepped forward. Where is she? he shouted, angrier than Owen had ever seen him

We read about you to be with you, to walk in someone else's shoes, to experience another life. Some of those lives are hard, and others are easy, but we're with you every step of the way. We read about people in impossible situations because we're dealing with horrible things ourselves, in our lives. And you going through your story helps us with ours, no matter how yours ends.

Once upon a time, Jack wouldn't have been caught dead in a princess rescue.

What happens this time, a hospital visit? Whoah! said Cyrus. See, now you must be reading my mind, because that's exactly why!

Nobody wrote The End in Story Thieves: The Stolen Chapters, and placed it on his shelf.

A what, now?

Thank you, Pig Keeper, Phillip said, and placed a few gold coins in the boy's hand. The boy's eyes went wide as he felt the weight of the gold,even as he absently corrected his prince. Uh, Assistant Pig Keeper, actually.

You can't know how amazing this is, how it makes up for everything. I knew that there was something like this out there, because if there wasn't, then life is just dental floss and vegetables and word problems. That can't be everything.

He realized that it wouldn't be much longer before the trees picked themselves up and migrated to the warmer south, leaving their dead, leafless brothers behind.

This was all such a waste of time, and after that last fight with what was apparently supposed to be a troll, his arm really hurt.

Owen is Owen. No one gets to tell him how to live his life. Not you, not me, and not some author nobody. Owen gets to choose how his life story goes, and no one, let alone his idiot fictional self, gets to take that away from him.

I'm stupider than a LOT of people give me credit for!