I know I wrote letters to people with no address on this earth, I know that you are dead. But I hear you. I hear all of you. We were here. Our lives matter.
For we cannot tarry here, We must march my darlings, we must bear the brunt of danger, We, the youthful sinewy races, all the rest on us depend, Pioneers! O pioneers!
Sydney tried — sometimes he really tried — but his default mindset didn’t have those kinds of manners. What he really meant was more like “Jacob, get over here or I’ll freeze your underwear.” Something like that.
You can't change where you come from, but you can change where you go from here. Just like a book. If you don't like the ending, you can make up a new one.
We all have such fateful objects -- it may be a recurrent landscape in one case, a number in another -- carefully chosen by the gods to attract events of specific significance for us: here shall John always stumble; there shall Jane's heart always br...
No, not you two. Stay here.' 'Does he just not get how unfair and sexist that is?' Eve asked. 'Men.' 'You really want to go first?' 'Of course no. But I'd like the chance to to go first.
And when demigods use cell phones, the signals agitate every monster within a hundred miles. It's like sending up a flare: Here I am! Please rearrange my face!
She looked at me, like she was drinking in the fact that I was still here. And I realized I was doing the same thing. The world was collapsing, and the only thing that really mattered to me was that she was alive.
"It always seemed somehow less real here... a really detailed dream, but sort of washed out, like a thin watercolor. Softer, somehow, even with their electric light and engines and everything. I guess it was because there was hardly any magic.
They weren't tears of sadness or even tears of joy. I was just overflowing. Like so many things since I'd been here, I didn't yet understand it, but I felt it.
Did you see the look on that guy's face when he hit the ground? He was all like "Come here, defenceless little girl,' and then you were like 'BAM! Take that, suck-face! I've got superpowers!
Here was a man who'd learned to write before he could think, a man who threw out logical fallacies like tacks behind a getaway car, and he always always always got away.
I love writing, and the feeling it brings me can’t be described by words. So here are a few grunting noises that capture my mood when I write: ugh, eek, umph, and ahh!
I don’t belong here,” I said. “I don’t even believe in gods.” “Yeah,” he said. “That’s how we all started. Once you start believing in them? It doesn’t get any easier.
I asked you a question. What are you doing here?" Resting his elbows on the side of the tub, he smiled lazily. She hated it when he smiled lazily. "Waiting for the bubbles to evaporate," he said.
'I thought you were an atheist,' Sjurd commented to hide the clench of his gut. He couldn't be stuck here while his country burned. 'Nobody's an atheist in a storm,' Celyn said absently, still frowning at the sky.
Hmm…” Jason snapped his fingers. “I can call a friend for a ride.” Percy raised his eyebrows. “Oh, yeah? Me too. Let's see whose friend gets here first.
Its never to late to get back on your feet though we wont live forever make sure you accomplish what you were put here for
I have no pity for myself either. So let it be Veronal. But I wish Hercule Poirot had never retired from work and come here to grow vegetable marrows.
The mage pulled my knife out of his side and looked at it. “Nice knife.” The voice was deep but female. I threw my second knife. The blade bit into the mage’s chest. Shit. Missed the neck. “Here, have another one.
Everybody has something, that one thing they must do to feel happy. I think this is yours, and I want you to be happy. You don’t have to do it, but it’s here if you choose to come back to it.
