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I wouldn't know where to start." "He who chooses the beginning of the road chooses the place it leads to." "Thoreau?" "Harry Emerson Fosdick.
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Hey, Ethan." "Yeah?" "Remember the Twinkie on the bus? The one I gave you in second grade, the day we met?" "The one you found on the floor and gave me without telling me? Nice." He grinned and shot the ball. "It never really fell on the floor. I made that part up.
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Even in the slippery blur of heat and arms and noise, Lena affected everything in her wake, a pull as powerful as the moon to the tides, or the planets to the sun. I was caught in her orbit, even as she pulled away from mine.
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Think of me as the praying mantis of the supernatural world. Aren't those the bugs that bite the heads off the males? Link looked skeptical. Yes. Then they eat them
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A Seer's moon, a Siren's tears, Nineteen Mortal, Wayward fears, Incubus graves and Caster rivers, The Final Page the End delivers.
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Coming into your powers can be a very confusing time. Perhaps there is a book on the subject. If you like, we can go see Marian." Yeah, right. Choices and Changes. A Modern Girl's Guide to Casting. My Mom Wants to Kill Me: A Self-Help Book For Teens.
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It was a promise she knew I might not be able to keep. But I made it anyway because I was going to find a way to make it true.
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Nobody the dead man & Nobody the living Nobody is giving in & Nobody is giving Nobody hears me but just Nobody cares Nobody fears me but Nobody just stares Nobody belongs to me & Nobody remains No Nobody knows nothing All that remains are remains
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Blood of my heart, protection is thine. Life of my life, taking yours, taking mine Body of my body, marrow and mind Soul of my soul, to our spirit bind Blood of my heart, my tides, my moon Blood of my heart, my salvation, my doom
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It almost felt like she was sucking it all out of me, like she sucked on that sticky red lollipop, the one she kept licking as she drove.
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Are you insinuatin' that my daughter is a liar?" "Oh, no, not at all. I'm saying your daughter is a liar. Surely you can appreciate the difference.
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In the wake of my talk with Earl, we had come to a mutual understanding about Lena, the only kind guys ever come to. Meaning, I hadn’t brought it up, and they hadn’t brought it up, and between us, we somehow all agreed to go on like this indefinitely. Don’t ask, don’t tell.
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Even when I didn't know anything else about where I was or what I was supposed to be doing. You were my Wayward, even then. Everything always brought me back to you. Everything.
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It’s funny how the good things are all tied up with the bad. Sometimes it’s hard to tell which is which. But either way, you end up taking your sugar with your salt and your kicks with your kisses.
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Nothin' wrong with havin' a cat in the house. They can see what most people can't, like the folks in the Otherworld when they cross back over - the good ones and the bad. And they get rid a mice.
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There is a point. I don't know what it is, but everything I've had, and everything I've lost, and everything I felt—it meant something.
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A little known fact: I read all the time. books were the one thing that got me out of Gatlin, even if it was only for a little while.
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There is a point. I don't know what it is, but everything I've had, and everything I've lost, and everything I felt-it meant something. Maybe there isn't a meaning to life. Maybe there's only a meaning to living. That's what I've learned. That's what I'm going to be doing from now on. Living. And loving, as sappy as it sounds
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I wanted to find a place to hide from all of it, where the nightmares and the rivers and reality couldn't find me. For me, that place was always inside a book.
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When you look up. Do you see the blue sky of what might be? Or the darkness of what will never be? Do you see me?
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Hey Rid?" She stopped and turned to look at him, almost ruefully. Like she couldn't help what she was any more then a shark could help being a shark, but if she could... "Yeah, Shrinky Dink?" "You're not all bad." She looked right at him and almost smiled. "You know what they say. Maybe I'm just drawn that way.
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She was wearing a purple T-shirt, with a skinny black dress over it that made you remember how much of a girl she was, and trashed black boots that made you forget.
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High school sucked. It was a universal truth, and whoever said these were supposed to be the best years of your life was probably drunk or delusional.
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It smelled like aging wood and creosote, plastic book covers, and old paper. Old paper, which my mom used to say was the smell of time itself.