Batman: a force of chaos in my world of perfect order. The dark side of the Soviet dream. Rumored to be a thousand murdered dissidents, they said he was a ghost. A walking dead man. A symbol of rebellion that would never fade as long as the system su...
If it had been a great necessity, if it had been contingents of an army meeting to overwhelm the enemy by stealth, it might not have worked out so neatly. But fate it would seem is a perfect strategist and will work miracles of timing to assist our d...
I see you're trying to distract me from the real point here," Magnus said instead. "You had a birthday - a perfect excuse for me to throw one of my famous parties - and you didn't even tell me about it?
We had visceral, rich memories of dull, interminable hours. Then a day would pass in perfect harmony with our projects, our family members, and our coworkers, and we couldn’t believe we were getting paid for this.
Her exceptional beauty also helps her to keep her secrets. Most people tend to think the best of those who are blessed with beauty; we have difficulty imagining that physical perfection can conceal twisted emotions or a damaged mind.
It'll be impossible to protect Brittany for the rest of her life from all the other guys who want to be near her, to see her as I've seen her. Touch her as I've touch her. Man, I never want to let her go.
I’m staring into chocolate eyes. although my brain is clouded and I’m dizzy, I know enough to register that chocolate is the opposite of blue. I don’t want blue. Blue confuses me too much. Chocolate is straight-forward, easier to deal with.
Say it again,” he says. “That whole drawn-out speech?” I remember something about a solar system, but I’m too light-headed to recite the entire thing all over again. He steps closer. “No. The part about you fallin’ for me.
Luis is right there.” I point to the corner of the yard, where my little brother is the centre of attention doing imitations of barnyard animals. I have yet to inform him that talent isn’t as much of a chick magnet when you get into junior high.
I like that girl more than I can remember likin’ anything in my life. I’m not about to give her up. I’ll start carin’ about what other people think when I’m six feet under.
You look incredible, Kavanagh,” Quinn whispered close to my ear. “Are you trying to kill me?” “Ssshhh,” I hissed. “They’re going to hear you.” “I can’t tell my date she’s beautiful?” I turned my head. “No. No, you can’t.
Thanet is having a moment,” I said, leaning forward so Quinn could see him. “What’s wrong, man?” Quinn said. “Were you not aware high school dances suck? That they always have sucked and they will continue sucking as long as the world turns...
Life, it turns out, goes on. There is no cosmic rule that grants you immunity from the details just because you have come face-to-face with a catastrophe. The garbage can still overflow, the bills arrive in the mail, telemarketers, interrupt dinner.
Once in a while, in the middle of an ordinary life… love gives us a fairy tale.” “It’s how I feel,” he said, swallowing hard. “I think I’ve been in love with you since I was fifteen years old.
You aren’t crazy,’ he says. ‘What?’ ‘I’ve known you all your life, and you’ve always tried to hide the parts of yourself that you think are wrong. But nothing is wrong with you.’ Those may be the best words he’s ever said to me.
She was my friend and I loved her and relied on her, even though there were days when her moodiness and fragility frightened me, because they reminded me of my own tenuous grasp on life.
I didn't want it to be one good memory that led to a lot of bad ones. I wanted it to stay what it was, one amazing moment, something that was strong and sweet enough to stand on its own. Something I could remember without any pain. - Kate
I bet you have girls hanging all over you. Dozens would probably kill to be in my spot and here I am, allergic to your bread.” I looked up. “Why? Because of my near godlike perfection?
People approach writers, assuming we pull a perfect text out of our nose each time (well spelled). Spelling is the least of it.
I sometimes lie awake at night wishing I had all the answers. But I guess only God has all of them, while I only have one answer: I do. Now I just have to wait for the perfect question to use it on.
I breathe slowly and deeply. I make my eyes still under eyelids, I make my mind still, and soon, Sleep, seeing a perfect reproduction of himself, comes to be united with his facsimile.
