It's a weapon, I understand?In the wrong hands, all tools are weapons. In the right hands, everything is a weapon, or nothing is.
It would be the end of her life, she decided, if life was a time of choices. In a week from now, she would have no choices.
It was as bad as the summer that her mother had taken the training wheels off Coraline's bicycle;but then, back then, in with all the cuts and scrapes (her knees had scabs on top of scabs) she had had...
It is astonishing just how much of what we are can be tied to the beds we wake up in in the morning, and it is astonishing how fragile that can be.
It doth not hurt, whispered a faint voice, She will take you life and all you are and all you care'st for, and she will leave you with nothing but mist and fog. She'll take your joy. And one day you'l...
If I wasn’t born, what am I doing here?’ ‘You’re an independent temporal nexus, chronosynclastically established as an inverse...’ He saw her expression, and stopped. ‘You’re telling me it’s timey-wim...
I'm just going to stay here, in the darkness under the arch. I can hear you all out there, trip-trapping, trip-trapping over my bridge.Oh yes, I can hear you.But I'm not coming out.
I will be a wise and tolerant monarch, dispencing justice fairly, and only setting nightmares to rip out the winds of the evil and the wicked. Or just anybody that I don't like.
I went away in my head, into a book. That was where I went whenever real life was too hard or too inflexible.
I watch my heart disappearing into her rosebud mouth. My Valentine's jest somehow seems less funny.
I still feels like I done when I was a tiny slip of a thing, making daisy chains in the old pasture. You’re always you, and that don’t change, and you’re always changing, and there’s nothing you can d...
I gain my freedom on the day the moon loses her daughter, if that occurs in a week when two Mondays come together. I await it with patience.
I feel dirty. I feel tarnished. I feel befouled. Perhaps it is true that all that happens is in accordance with Your will, and thus it is good. But sometimes You leave blood on Your instruments.
I couldn't get you to the ocean, but there was nothing stopping me bringing the ocean to you.
I can tell you this, you never say no to the opportunity to piss, to eat, or to get an half-hour's shut eye...
Hearts may break, but hearts are the toughest of muscles, able to pump for a lifetime, seventy times a minute, and scarcely falter along the way. Even dreams, the most delicate and intangible of thing...
He would go somewhere no one knew him, and he would sit in a library all day and read books and listen to people breathing.
He was looking at Mr. Nancy, an old black man with a pencil moustache, in his check sports jacket and his lemon yellow gloves, riding a carousel lion as it rose and lowered, high in the air; and, at t...
He was alone in the darkness once more, but the darkness became brighter and brighter until it was burning like the sun.
Fuck you, said Czernobog. Fuck you and fuck your mother and fuck the fucking horse you fucking rode in on. You will not even die in battle. No warrior will taste your blood. No one alive will take you...