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Dreams are like that: they go in and out of memories and scenes, but they're never real. They're never real, and I hate them because they aren't.
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If I can only see him in madness, is it worth trying to hold onto sanity?
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I lean closer to him, so close I can smell his skin, and when I speak, I can see how the little hairs near his ear move with my breath. "I also want you to know that I won't kill you right away. But that you'll wish I had.
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Words are powerful things. They can start—or end—wars. People believe in words. They are the fundamental expression of ourselves, the division between human and not, the means by which we learn. And while people use words to teach, to express art, to proclaim truths, at the most basic level, people use words to simply say: I am here.
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If we don't have that, what do we have to live for? Does it matter if it's a lie if it keeps us alive?
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And there is nothing between us but rain. Then there is nothing between us at all.
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I am as silent as death. Do this: Go to your bedroom. Your nice, safe, warm bedroom that is not a glass coffin behind a morgue door. Lie down on your bed not made of ice. Stick your fingers in your ears. Do you hear that? The pulse of life from your heart, the slow in-and-out from your lungs? Even when you are silent, even when you block out all noise, your body is still a cacophony of life. Mine is not. It is the silence that drives me mad. The silence that drives the nightmares to me. Because what if I am dead? How can someone without a beating heart, without breathing lungs live like I do? I must be dead. And this is my greatest fear: After 301 years, when they pull my glass coffin from this morgue, and they let my body thaw like chicken meat on the kitchen counter, I will be just like I am now. I will spend all of eternity trapped in my dead body. There is nothing beyond this. I will be locked within myself forever. And I want to scream. I want to throw open my eyes wake up and not be alone with myself anymore, but I can't. I can't.
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We are, at least in part, who we remember ourselves to be. Take away our memories, and you take away our selves.
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There are countless reasons to be jealous. But that doesn’t mean you have to succumb to them.
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But sometimes I look at Phoebe and I think about how she had a bird inside her heart. On the outside, she’s just like everyone else, but I like to think that maybe she carries within her something magical and free.
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A few months ago, I would have thrown this book down in disgust and walked away—maybe even returned home, where the only books I knew reminded me of my father. But now… My fingers wrapped around the spine of the book. Now I was willing to try anything.
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But how can I be disappointed in space?
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Who are the real monsters?
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I realize the simple truth is that power isn’t control at all- power is strength, and giving that strength to others. A leader isn’t someone who forces others to make him stronger; a leader is someone willing to give his strength to others so that they may have the strength to stand on their own.
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It was to apologize, and apologizing means he remembers what happened, and that means being trapped in a nightmare that’s already come true.
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Our masterpieces are Shakespeare and Jane Austen and griots and Murasaki Shikibu, but they’re also J.K. Rowling and Chuck Palahnuik and Douglas Adams and Amy Tan and Suzanne Collins and Chinua Achebe. Read. Read them all. Read the books you love, and try to read books you don’t. Read the genres you love, but sometimes also read a book outside your comfort zone. Read voraciously.
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Holding Amy against me, I realize the simple truth is that power isn't control at all - power is strength, and giving that strength to others.
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I can't be the kind of leader you want me to. I will never, ever be the kind of leader you want me to be. And I will be better because of it.
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I think his chutz is up, don't you?
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As soon as the words slip past my lips, I wish I could grab them with my hands and crush them in my fists. But I can’t. The words are there.
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Of everyone on this ship, even the frozen bodies of my parents, Elder's the only one who handed me truth and waited for me to accept it.
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But...If my life on Earth must end, let it end with a promise. Let it end with hope.
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People will survive anything for their children.
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I quit thinking.