I know why we try to keep the dead alive: we try to keep them alive in order to keep them with us. I also know that if we are to live ourselves there comes a point at which we must relinquish the dead, let them go, keep them dead. Let them become the...
I am sorry my decisions do not meet with your approval, but nevertheless, they are mine, and the consequences are also mine.
Pam. Listen.' 'The phone is pressed to my ear. Speak.' 'Appius Livius Ocella just dropped in.' 'Fuck a zombie!' - Sookie & Pam, Dead in the Family, Charlaine Harris
Kissing was an extension of that, a celebration. A little party between us, amplifying our naive joy, our faith that the world was delighted to give us just what we wanted.
Do you always try to upset the world as much as possible?" Clare asked. He gave her a surprised look. "Of course. Otherwise how does anything change?
What's the Future? It's a blank sheet of paper, and we draw lines on it, but sometimes our hand is held, and the lines we draw aren't the lines we wanted.
The rain thundered down so heavily that Pritam could imagine that space itself was made of water and was pouring through rents in the sky's tired fabric.
The world needed a little Evil, so Good had something to compare itself to, but you couldn't let it think it had the right-of-way on the road and an invitation to dinner.
Hooters McHoulihan, let's get the fuck out of here. This G-string is so far up my ass, it's making my brain hurt," Jane grumbled
The dead were just the dead, neither awful nor remarkable. History separated out these individuals and preserved their names where others were obilterated for ever.
Your pants didn't get smaller, Mommy," I assured her. "Your butt got bigger.
The stars were only sparks of the fire which devoured us. Should that fire die out one day, there would be nothing left in the sky but dead stars, dead eyes.
The utter unbroken silence was more appalling than any ominous noise, than the loudest yells of anguish, than the most piercing screaming... Dead silence. Literally dead.
Hey, our hair's the same color," I said, eying us side by side in the mirror. "Sure is, girlfriend." Eric grinned at me.
Didn't anyone ever teach you that it's easier to ask forgiveness than permission?
She became a story, one I have mostly forgotten. One I can't end because she died a long time ago.
You are not dead, until every person who knew you is dead as well." Where did I hear that? It doesn't matter. There is a village in my head.
All monsters are queers. Who is able to bring the dead back to life? God and the Devil. The Devil makes dead men into monsters: immortal, immoral—and queer.
He had threatened my parents. I had to remember that. Still, it was really hard to stay mad at a wounded naked man.
The ultimate dead end is murder. My house is on a dead-end street, and it’s killing me. My house is so small it’s trying to suffocate me.
Would that the dead were not dead! But there is grass that must be eaten, pellets that must be chewed, hraka that must be passed, holes that must be dug, sleep that must be slept.
