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And otherwise normal men become monsters, too.
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A book… it’s a world all on its own too. A world made of words, where you live for a while.
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It is a true story, the monster said. Many things that are true feel like a cheat.
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If the world wants you, it's gonna keep on coming till it gets you. And who am I that can fix it? Who am I that can change this if the world wants it so badly? Who am I to stop the end of the world if it keeps on coming?
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And the pain is too much it's too much it's too much and my hands are on my head and I'm rearing back and my mouth is open in a never-ending wordless wail of all the blackness that's inside me. And i fall back into it.
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Viola blows out a thoughtful air. "My dad used to say, 'There's only forward, Vi, only outward and up.'" "There's only forward," I repeat. "Outward and up," she says.
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Poo" Manchee barks quielty to himself. "Poo, poo, poo." "Just have yer stupid poo and quit yapping about it.
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You said we all want there to be more than this! Well, there's always more than this. There's always something you don't know.
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Choices may be unbelievably hard but they're never impossible. To say you have no choice is to release yourself from responsibility and that's not how a person with integrity acts.
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Here I am. Here we are. Here we go. Here is all that matters.
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Why can't we learn to live with how we are? And whatever anybody chooses is okay by the rest of us?
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It's always nice when two people who don't got no one else find each other as friends.
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Stories are important...They can be more important than anything. If they carry the truth.
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A thing worth learning is worth learning well.
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If a crowd can flinch, they flinch. More than a thousand men flinch under the fist of just one. I don't see what the women do.
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When luck ain't with you it's against you.
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We sure as ruddy heck ain't in Prentisstown no more," I say to Manchee under my breath.
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And it hurts her, but it's an okay hurt, but it hurts still, but it's good, but it hurts.
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As destruction goes, the monster said behind him, this is all remarkably pitiful.
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In this world of numbness and information overload, the ability to feel, my boy, is a rare gift indeed.
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Too much talking," I say. "Not enough running.
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TODD!" I yell again and I reach him and his Noise opens even farther and wraps around me like a blanket and I'm grabbing him to me, grabbing him to me like I'll never let him go and he calls out in pain but his other arm is grabbing me back - "I thought you were dead," he's saying, his breath on my neck. "I thought you were dead." "Todd," I say and I'm crying and the only thing I can say is his name. "Todd.
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Life equals running and when we stop running maybe that's how we'll know life is finally finished.
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And it’s a sad song, Todd, but it’s also a promise. I’ll never deceive you and I’ll never leave you and I promise you this so you can one day promise it to others and know that it’s true.