I let out a battle cry. Sure, a lot of people might have mistaken it for a sudden yelp of unmanly fear, but trust me. It was a battle cry.
The fear of blacks has become the dirty little secret of our political culture.
Love is rare, Rhys. You found it without even trying. I had that kind of love. It's a gift, a type of magic all its own.
Most of the passenger cars are lined with thick patterned carpets, upholstered in velvets in burgundies and violets and creams, as though they have been dipped in a sunset, hovering at twilight and holding on to the colors before they fade to midnigh...
The city was lovely. There could be no place in the world to which he belonged so completely. That was why he'd always dreamed of leaving, and why he'd always been so afraid to go.
I tried to explain as much as I could," Poppet says. "I think I made an analogy about cake." "Well, that must have worked," Widget says. "Who doesn't like a good cake analogy?
It's not a real name," she says. "Not one that he's carried with him always. It's one he wears like his hat. So he can take it off if he wants.
I believe that words are strong, that they can overwhelm what we fear when fear seems more awful than life is good.
A sense of humor is the best indicator that you will recover; it is often the best indicator that people will love you. Sustain that and you have hope.
...I'd come home but nearly everybody does. It's the ones that don't go home that I feel sorry for, they're not happy.
I’ve never done this before. I didn’t go to human bars. Mudslides aside, I’m not much of a drinker. Club people are not my people. Now, book-club people—
I will do anything. Anything, Blaire, just to be near you. I can’t think about anything else. I can’t focus on anything. So never think you’re inconveniencing me. You need me, I’m there.
Jane Jameson." He grinned. "Like the porn star." I gaped at him. "What? No, Jameson." "Oh, not as fun," he said, making disappointed clucking noises.
What was that?" Rich combined the pain of a crooked arm with the indignity of a flicked ear. I could only hope the situation didn't escalate to the dreaded purple nurple.
—even in hardened criminals, they were just air pockets lodged under debris at the bottom of an ocean. It might take an earthquake, or you scuba diving down there, sifting through the sludge, but their natural proclivity was always to head straight...
It took me awhile to learn the rules. OK, it took the librarian in me weeks of careful obsessive research to learn the rules. There was a label maker involved. I'd rather not go into it.
Contrary to popular myth, werewolves myth, werewolves are born, not made. No matter how many times they bite someone, that person will not turn, though they will probably bleed profusely and will definitely be annoyed.
Nature's what it's all about, but our people have been brainwashed into thinking that life is a cell phone against your head and the TV on a beer commercial with hot chicks.
He blew himself up.” “Get out! You mean like guts all over the place?” “Not all over the place,” I said. “He was pretty well contained, all things considered.
They're horrible little creatures. All snot and smelly feet and pestering questions." "Then why did you go into teaching?" "It was either that or sit at home with Mother all day. I picked the lesser of two evils.
Death. It's around more than people realize. Because no one wants to talk about it or hear about it. It's too sad. Too painful. Too hard. The list of reasons is endless.
