Destynnee Realta

“The clit.” Elle sighed. “The only organ on the human body designed solely for pleasure. Proof God is a woman.”
― Tiffany Reisz, The Queen

“Our fears are the bastard children of our longings.”
― Tiffany Reisz, The Chateau

“Søren could be cold and cruel at times but other times it seemed he was born to say the words she most needed to hear.”
― Tiffany Reisz, The Queen

“Why does it always have to hurt so much?” Kingsley asked.


“What?”


“Life.”


Nora smiled. “God’s a sadist. That’s why.”


“You think so?”


“Oh, I know so,” Nora said. “I’m a writer. I do what God does in miniature every time I write a book. I create worlds and people out of nothing—ex nihilo—and I torture the fuck out of them for four hundred pages.”


“Because you’re a sadist?”


“Partly that. Plus...if I didn’t torture them it would be a real fucking short book. And trust me on this, King, there is no money in short stories.”


Kingsley laughed and buried his head into her lap again, seeking her comfort and safety and the shelter of someone stronger.


“You’ve solved the oldest theological conundrum of all time,” Kingsley said. “Why does God allow suffering? Because there’s no money in short stories.”


“I’ll tell you one more little secret about being a god. Even though I torture them for four hundred pages, it hurts me to do it.”


“They aren’t real. Why does it hurt?”


“I created them. They’re mine. I love them. God loves us, too, even when He hurts us. Especially when He hurts us, I imagine.”
― Tiffany Reisz, The Queen