We say no more on the matter and she asks me to help her find a word, an adjective to qualify something that falls on mankind, although not necessarily something of a meteorological nature, like rain, but a word associated with the apocalypse of the ...
Facts," murmured Basil, like one mentioning some strange, far-off animals, "how facts obscure the truth. I may be silly—in fact, I'm off my head—but I never could believe in that man—what's his name, in those capital stories?—Sherlock Holmes....
Sure, I'd like a child of my own. I'd also like a laser pistol, that doesn't mean someone should give me one.
In dog culture, when someone calls you, you should absolutely not come if that results in the ending of something you like or initiation of something you don’t like.
Even from the beginning, that was the problem. People liked pretty things. People even liked pretty things that wanted to kill and eat them.
I didn’t like his tone. In fact I didn’t like boys’ tone when they knew they were hot and tried to be rude to girls because they knew they were hot.
He's not here." "Not here like he just popped around the corner to the bodega for a six-pack of Diet Coke and a box of Krispy Kremes, or not here like...
Men want a girl who looks like a boy. They want to protect her but she must be a survivor. And she must come...like a train...but with...elegance.
Yeah. I'm the fly in the soup. I don't like it any better than you do. Flies don't like being swamped in soup, especially when it's hot.
D'you think he would have thought ahead like that?" said Henry. "Assuredly," said Will. "The man's a strategist." He tapped his temple. "Like me.
...and specimens like this confirmed there had been some kind of divine rule in the universe because no natural selection process was up to the task of creating something like him. This was some god’s, somewhere’s, handiwork.
I don't like people--much. This kind, I mean. And they don't like me at all, as a rule. Maybe the latter explains the former.
Creamy and leggy, with long azure hair and the eyes of a silent-movie star, she moved like a poem and smiled like a sphinx.
It would be fun,” Skulduggery nodded. ”I like kicking Wreath in the face. I haven't had a chance to do it nearly as much as I'd like.
Now I feel like James Bond. Suave and intelligent, breaking all the codes while looking fabulous.
For the first time I could remember, I felt weak, woozy and stupid— like a human-being. Like a very small and helpless human-being.
But sometimes shame is a more powerful engine than rage. Like rage, it burns hot; and like rage it tends to consume its own furnace.
I felt the human disease that is ignorance suddenly leave my body. Just like that. Like a hot, desperate piss after a long car ride.
An hour before his world exploded like a ripe tomato under a stiletto heel, Myron bit into a fresh pastry that tasted suspiciously like urinal cake.
Tell me this. What is it with men and feeling like they have to act like self-destructive superheroes whenever trouble shows up?” “It’s the only way we know how to love.
I looked at him like a stranger, someone I’d never seen before, and he looked at me like I’d been lost to him for a thousand years and finally found.
