... Everything he feels, he feels strongly. Too strongly, sometimes. I think he freaks people out.
Wherever he goes, whatever he does, he will always see that word: murder—immortally inscribed upon the pediment of that vast slaughterhouse—humanity.
He wondered if he should try to talk to the boy like that. Perhaps the boy wondered why he didn't. But they had silence, and not many people had that.
What can you say to a man who tells you he prefers obeying God rather than men, and that as a result he's certain he'll go to heaven if he cuts your throat?
He had no racial feeling—not because he was superior to his brother civilians, but because he had matured in a different atmosphere, where the herd instinct does not flourish.
Jim looks out the car window with his nose pressed to the glass. Sometimes he pretends to be asleep. Not because he is tired, but because he needs to be quiet.
Come to the edge, He said. They said: We are afraid. Come to the edge, He said. They came. He pushed them, And they flew . . ." — Guillaume Apollinairet French poet
Everything was a test. Or a lesson. Or a punishment from which he was supposed to learn a lesson, on which he would be tested later, and punished if he hadn't learned it.
Adam was but human—this explains it all. He did not want the apple for the apple's sake, he wanted it only because it was forbidden. The mistake was in not forbidding the serpent; then he would have eaten the serpent.
Was this what he wanted? Some sort of domesticated bliss? Yes. He decided. He wasted it all. The whole gift wrapped Christmas Catalog Family Package.
He didnt know what was defeating him, but he sensed it was something he could not cope with, something that was far beyond his power to control or even at this point in time comprehend.
That is the Proctor. He is our Cerberus; he has to keep all undergraduates in good order." "What a task! He ought to have three heads.
I don't function without a heart, he said angrily and then added under his breath as he grabbed at the front of his Tshirt, He's right here.
He gave me the one thing he's never given to anyone before.. He gave me his heart, and his trust. And in return, I gave him the same right back....
He was born after me, and he died before me. I gave him life, and I killed him. He was an idea, and considerably harder to stab than grandpa.
I found out who my real dad is on Facebook. I also found out who he isn’t. He isn’t the man I thought he isn’t.
He doesn’t have sex with sheep—he sleeps with scapegoats. He is my father, and I haven’t seen him since before I was born.
He searched for my gaze and the second he found it, I cracked a smile. “There it is.” He palmed his chest again and sighed. “All is right in the world again.
The people he met, the places he passed, were all steps in his journey, and he kept a place inside his heart for each of them.
He had turned into a dragon while he was asleep. Sleeping on a dragon's hoard with greedy, dragonish thoughts in his heart, he had become a dragon himself.
He wished he could find a way back to believing, even though he knew better, that she was his to protect.
