The air between them was electric, the scent of his aftershave was intoxicating and she could feel the testosterone bouncing off him. She could immediately tell he was a powerful man.
Your name could mean to excel and you could be useless and crap at everything. You can put a name on anything, call it whatever you want, doesn’t make it real. Doesn’t make it true.
She wished she could help David to seem more legitimate. She wished she could do something to keep everything from being so undignified. Life seemed so uselessly extravagant.
A soul could be resurrected and re-born to another body, its memories restored, but once the house it belonged to had been emptied, they could no longer call it home."~Taznikos Abyssos
...in the middle of the field, Harry suddenly stopped and looked back. Mr. Chad was all alone in the creepy woods. He could take care of himself...couldn't he? Of course he could, he was a teacher.
You had a choice: you could either strain and look at things that appeared in front of you in the fog, painful as it might be, or you could relax and lose yourself
I resolved, then, deep in my soul never to let him go. I'd be the one never to leave him. I'd prove to him that some things could be for always- that we could be.
The circus had been unlike anything I could ever imagine and I could not walk away. I wanted to be a part of the magic, create it and wield it with such skill that it looked effortless. I wanted to fly.
If we became a pal to what scared us the most, we could find a simple way to ease all that bothered us, we would find peace, peace that we could live with.
I knew I had to let you go, but I didn’t know how. I could barely go a week without you, so how the hell could I go a lifetime without you?
If only there could be an invention that bottled up a memory, like scent. And it never faded, and it never got stale. And then, when one wanted it, the bottle could be uncorked, and it would be like living the moment all over again.
A brick could be a columnist for the New York Times, and could even win a Nobel Prize. And why not? Is that any more absurd than both those things happening for Paul Krugman?
A brick could be used as a cube. No it couldn’t. If you thought it could, you need to be punished. I’m going to recommend to the high school principal that you be forced to repeat geometry—with Mr. Blanket.
A brick could be grown on a tree, much like an apple or money, so that maybe humanity could achieve world peace—starting with not killing innocent fruits and vegetables.
I could leave the world of the book enthralled and inspired, but the real world awaited me, to caress or to kick me; reality was a powerful force that could not be ignored.
He could feel the belligerence growing in Freddie Miles as surely as if his huge body were generating a heat that he could feel across the room.
"One could have mistakenly assumed that each train could choose its own destination. But there was no choice. The Nazi operator sat in the station booth, his hands on levers and switches, forcing each train along its given path.
Olga was better, in the sun, where he could see every pore in her skin. Get closer. Feel her next to him. It was all he wanted in the world. It was the last thing in the world that he could do.
A book on war is useful, but it’d be even more useful if it could shoot bullets. Or stop them. Or stop illiteracy. Oh, If only Congress could read what they sign into law.
She could see that to lose a sibling was hard: it could only seem unnatural:out of time, out of order, a vicious re-run of your own departure into nothingness.
With the development of the printing press, not only could text be mass-produced quickly, it could also be mass-produced quickly and incorrectly.
