That's just how time travel looks like to the untrained eye. The reason why there aren't more travelers is that your average physicist refuses to be eaten by a giraffe in the name of science.
She loves. And she doesn't know how to pull it back when you have to, because sometimes you sure as feck have to. Got to grab it up with both hands and pull it back before somebody turns into knives and uses it to cut you to pieces.
And Mega has a crush on Chester." "I do not!" "Do too, Mega." "He's like, old!" "How old, Christian says." "Like at least thirty or something." Lor laughs. " Fucking ancient, ain't it, kid?" "Dude," I agree. I like Lor.
Why did you laugh right before you lost consciousness.” “Death’s an adventure. I lived big. Rigor mortis makes your face stick. So, who knew how to thaw me?” “Death’s an insult.” “At least an affront,” I agree.
I'm trying to keep your safe!" Puck exploded, whirling on me. His eyes feverish, and I shrank back. "This isn't a game, Meghan! The shit is about to hit the fan, and you're right in the middle of it without knowing enough to duck!
True love is taking the risk that it won't be a happily-ever-after. True love is joining hands with the man who loves you for who you are, and saying, "I'm not afraid to believe in you.
Everyone is always learning something new," my father would remind me when he checked to see if I was doing my homework and found me gazing out the window at the stars. "If not, why be alive?
Endless longing; a face you'd known since childhood, since birth almost; a body that moved as though it were your own. These were things you never spoke of, things you never hoped for; things you could never admit to. Things you'd die for, and die of...
A man wasn't equal to an animal, not one particle of him. Human life was stinking corrupt, and meanwhile there were beautiful creatures who lived with delicacy on the earth without doing anyone harm. "We should be dying." the judge almost wept.
Whether or not there was room in her life for Tamani, Laurel knew that there was precious little room in Tamani's life for anything but Laurel. He lived to protect her, and he'd never failed her. Annoyed her, frustrated her, hurt her, maddened her - ...
As far as her mom was concerned, tea fixed everything. Have a cold? Have some tea. Broken bones? There's a tea for that too. Somewhere in her mother's pantry, Laurel suspected, was a box of tea that said, 'In case of Armageddon, steep three to five m...
Hey!" Caleb snapped as he realized Nick was about to lock him on the outside with their attackers. He pushed the door open and glared at him. "No man left behind." Nick scoffed. "This aint' the army, boy. It's every man for himself. Fall behind. Get ...
Hey, Ms. P," Tad called, "what's going on?" She let out a slow breath before she answered. "You won't believe this... Brian Murrey tried to eat Scott Morgan." Nick's eyes widened at the unexpected explanation. Had he heard that right?
The room does feel strange, oppressive even, with the TV off. In fact, Katie can’t remember ever being in this room without it on. It’s as if they’re missing their fifth sibling, the one who never shuts up and demands all the attention.
It always starts out that way," Kanin said, and his voice was distant, as if remembering. "Noble intentions, honor among new vampires. Vows to not harm humans, to take only what is needed, to not hunt them like sheep through the night.
She said that one day they would be very old, that the world would be a different place, but it would always be their world, and that the time apart now would be a nightmare from which they would recover - desperation buried under years of happiness.
Everybody is original, if he tells the truth, if he speaks from himself. But it must be from his *true* self and not from the self he thinks he *should* be.
...the best way to know the Truth or Beauty is to try to express it. And what is the purpose of existence Here or Yonder but to discover truth and beauty and express it, i.e., share it with others?
At least I understood that writing was this: an impulse to share with other people a feeling or truth that I myself had. Not to preach to them, but to give it to them if they cared to hear it.
If I could just write it down in a piece of paper, then maybe she could get a decent night's sleep, eat a little of her dinner. Maybe she could have a minute's worth of peace.
I needed her to stop. Needed not to hear the pain in her voice--to see the way she was twisting the pocketbook strap. If she kept talking, she might break down and tell me everything.
