Madness,' Nick called. 'That's all I've found here. Does Avalon breed insanity? Is that the nature of magic, to drive everyone out of their minds?
The boy planted his hands on his hips and a broad smile lit his face. "My name's Peter. Can I play too?
But I don't think Art's an Einstein - he likes tugging ears, biting people and burping too much to be a genius.
I’m a thief, because I stole her heart. That’s so cheesy that I had to end it with nachos.
I could flee to the heath. Show them that they cannot keep me locked up, that I am a thief of time and will steal the hours denied to me!
The sky is blue today, Max, and there is a big long cloud, and it's stretched out, like a rope. At the end of it, the sun is like a yellow hole. . .
He switched off the light, came back and sat in the chair. In the darkness, Liesel kept her eyes open. She was watching the words.
A halo surrounded the grim reaper nun, Sister Maria. (By the way-I like this human idea of the grim reaper. I like the scythe. It amuses me.)
A small but noteworthy note. I've seen so many young men over the years who think they're running at other young men. They are not. They are running at me.
Papa was a man with silver eyes, not dead ones. Papa was an accordion! But his bellows were all empty. Nothing went in and nothing came out.
For two days I went about my business. I travelled the globe as always, handing souls to the conveyor belt of eternity.
It was a year for the ages, like 79, like 1346, to name just a few. Forget the scythe, Goddamn it, I needed a broom or a mop. And I needed a vacation.
Could she smell my breath? Could she hear my cursed circular heart beat revolving like the crime it is in my deathly chest?
I guess humans like to watch a little destruction. Sand castles, houses of cards, that's where they begin. Their great skills is their capacity to escalate.
..As always, she was carrying the washing. Rudy was carrying two buckets of cold water, or as he put it, two buckets of future ice.
It amazes me what humans can do, even when streams are flowing down their faces and they stagger on, coughing and searching, and finding.
Often I wish this would all be over, Liesel, but then somehow you do something like walk down the basement steps with a snowman in your hands.
Somewhere, far down, there was an itch in his heart, but he made it a point not to scratch it. He was afraid of what might come leaking out.
He does something to me, that boy. Every time. It’s his only detriment. He steps on my heart. He makes me cry.
Whoever named Himmel Street certainly had a healthy sense of irony. Not that is was a living hell. It wasn't. But is sure as hell wasn't heaven, either.
She was like a lone angel floating above the surface of the earth, laughing with delight because she could fly but crying out of loneliness.
