...he could feel hot tears coming to his eyes as the image of that night, outside the house as the November wind blew black leaves up off the ground and the sky turned colors like bruised flesh.
A book is a loaded gun in the house next door. Burn it. Take the shot from the weapon. Breach man's mind. Who knows who might be the target of a well-read man?
You should see it,” he said. “V for Vendetta, I mean.” “Okay,” I said. “I’ll look it up.” “No. With me. At my house,” he said. “Now.
At least you left out the oh-my-God sauce this time." "Made myself a batch with it," Shane said. "It's got the biohazard sticker on it in the fridge, so don't bitch if you get flamed.
When at last I came upon the right book, the feeling was violent: it blew open a hole in me that made life more dangerous because I couldn't control what came through it.
Library books were, I suddenly realized, promiscuous, ready to lie down in the arms of anyone who asked. Not like bookstore books, which married their purchasers, or were brokered for marriages to others.
Fire is a speed reader, which is why the ignorant burn books: fire races through pages, takes care of all the knowledge, and never bores you with a summary.
Damn, Claire. Warn a guy before you do a face-plant on the floor next time. I could have looked all heroic and caught you or something -Shane
Okay, this was kissing. Serious kissing. Not just a kiss before moving out, not a good-bye, this was Hello, sexy, and wow, she’d never even suspected that it could feel this way.
It's possible to walk out of your house with "local" footsteps, printing them one by one till they go on to make "global" consequences! Go, make a safe journey!
Whatever, crazy chick who maybe lives here and maybe also breaks into Michael's house when they're all gone. I'm out. Have a nice delusion. -Shayne
There are two ways to find a lost city. The first is to rely on luck alone, the second is to control all the information.
My journey to the land of the Shuar tribe had taught me the importance of practical gifts.
The porters could always be coaxed to continue a little further through driving rain by the mere suggestion of a Pot Noodle at the end.
If hot food is they key to maintaining an expedition's stamina, then low grade gut-rot alcohol is the key to sustaining its sense of pleasure.
In the world of the Machiguenga, sadness could be equated with anger, and anger was a perilous emotion, by which a foreigner could lose his life.
The forest did not tolerate frailty of body or mind. Show your weakness, and it would consume you without hesitation.
The inertia of a jungle village is a dangerous thing. Before you know it your whole life has slipped by and you are still waiting there.
Cold. Foggy cold. Soaking through fabric, biting into the skin, clutching the bones until flesh crawled. There was no moonlight, only orange, smoky lanterns, and the light made the snow glitter and turned the shadows into blood.
Previous journeys in search of treasure have taught me that a zigzag strategy is the best way to get ahead.
Any man who has ever led an army, an expedition, or a group of Boy Scouts has sadism in his bones.
