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Didn't you finish your chemistry in school?" "You closed the school and burnt all the books." "Ah, so I did.
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Hope may be the thing that pulls you forward, may be the thing that keeps you going, but that it's dangerous, that it's painful and risky, that it's making a dare in the world and when has the world ever let us win a dare?
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They open up the world. Because knowledge is useless if you don’t know how to find it, if you don’t even know where to begin to look. - on librarians.
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Flakes of white fall thru the trees and onto the road, catching on our clothes and hair. It's a silent fall and it's weird how it makes everything else seem quiet, too, like it's trying to tell you a secret, a terrible, terrible secret.
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Do we hate paradise so much we need to make sure it becomes a trash heap?
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You love him," he says. Not an asking, just a fact. "I do," I say. Also a fact.
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Don't think you haven't lived long enough to have a story to tell.
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Midnight passes and I'm twenty-five days and a million years from becoming a man.
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Stories were wild, wild animals and went off in directions you couldn't expect.
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What a sad thing men are. Can’t do nothing good without being so weak we have to mess it up. Can’t build something up without tearing it down.
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Noise ain't Truth, Noise is what men want to be true, and there's a difference twixt those two things so big that it could ruddy well kill you if you don't watch out.
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Stories don’t end with the writers, however many started the race.
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Dogs don't got the problems of people. Dogs can be happy any old time.
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War is like a monster," he says, almost to himself. "War is the devil. It starts and it consumes and it grows and grows and grows." He's looking at me now. "And otherwise normal men become monsters, too.
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I'll do it, Todd," I whisper. "I'll come with you." And he doesn't say anything, just squeezes my hand harder and brings it up to his face like he wants to breathe me in.
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Being a leader is making the people you love hate you a little more each day.
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War makes monsters of men, you once said to me Todd. Well, so does too much knowledge. Too much knowledge of your fellow man, too much knowledge of his weakness, his pathetic greed and vanity, and how laughably easy it is to control him.
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You tell a man the truth about himself and, well, they find they have trouble accepting it.
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Don't deceive me. Never leave me.
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Librarians open up the world. Knowledge is useless if you don't even know where to begin to look. How much more can you discover when someone can point you in the right direction, when someone can maybe even give you a treasure map, to places you may not have even thought you were allowed to go? This is what librarians do.
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"No," he says, taking us both in. "No, no, no. You've come farther than most people on this planet will in their lifetimes. You've overcome obstacles and dangers and things that should've killed you. You've outrun an army and a madman and deadly illness and seen things most people will never see. How do you think you could have possibly come this far if you didn't have hope?"
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This is how we are protecting you, by getting you out.
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Nobody has to tell nobody nothing,” I say, taking another step forward. “You never were a poet, were you, Todd?” he says.
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And then his noise falls completely silent- And he stops struggling- And looking right into my eyes- He dies. My Todd dies.