I mean, I wish I knew the right things to say to people. Sometimes I seem to just sit there.
I don't know what you mean when you say 'the whole world' or 'generations before him.'I thought there was only us. I thought there was only now.
I didn’t reply as he had hoped to a student who emailed me some years later, with the request Please list all the similes and metaphors in The Giver, I’m sure it contained those as well.)
Henry glared at Anastasia. 'You quit planning on a rich husband, Anastasia. You're gonna get rich on your own. You and me, if we husbands, fine. But we won't them. Like our mothers. My mom could do...
He gestured toward her twisted leg. Like you. Some don't walk good. Some be broken in other ways. Not all. But lots. Do you think it maken them quiet and nice, to be broken?
He could feel the little head nudge his back, bouncing gently against him as he rode. Gabriel was sleeping soundly, strapped into the seat. Before he had left the dwelling, he had laid his hånds firml...
God of Thunder made a very small rain shower in the corner of the kitchen floor. Keep an eye on him.
Frie Danske
Fours, Fives, and Sixes all wore jackets that fastened down the back so that they would have to help each other dress and would learn interdependence.
For the first time, he heard something that he knew to be music. He heard people singing. Behind him, across vast distances of space and time, from the place he had left, he thought he heard music too...
Even trained for years as they all had been in precision of language, what words could you use which would give another the experience of sunshine?
Ellen had said that her mother was frightened of the ocean, that it was too cold and too big. The sky was, too, thought Annemarie. The whole world was: too cold, too big. And too cruel.
Elderberry, the old woman told her.
DAYS WENT BY, and weeks. Jonas learned, through the memories, the names of colors; and now he began to see them all, in his ordinary life (though he knew it was ordinary no longer, and would never be...
But it made her smile, to see it, to see how the pen formed the shapes and the shapes told a story of a name.
Birthmother was an important job, if lacking in prestige.
Artist? Thomas suggested. That’s a word. I’ve never heard anyone say it, but I’ve read it in some of the books. It means, well, someone who is able to make something beautiful. Would that be the word?
Artist?' Thomas suggested. 'That's a word. I've never heard anyone say it, but I've read it in some of the books. It means, well, someone who makes something beautiful. Would that be a word?
You have more than you know. And people will want what you have.
With a rhythmic sound of languid water lapping hypnotically against a beach nearby.