Lev smiles. "Leave it to you to turn someone else's screwup into gold
Lord, if what I'm doing is wrong, then by all means strike me down. Otherwise set me free.
I'm tired of eating your family's lousy, tasteless recipes," Dad said. "Tasteless recipes? My grandmother's rolling in her grave!" "It's from indigestion.
I have no idea,' he tells her, and there is such a spark in his eye when he says it, she can tell having no idea is exactly the way he wants it.
You have robbed me, and everyone here, of their purpose. That's not salvation, that's damnation.
Their fate rested entirely on me. I could save them by telling the truth. I could destroy them by lying. No one should have that much power.
We want what you no longer want.
This book is so interesting. I always wonder what's going to happen next.
Death doesn't just make all the world kin, it makes all religions one
Cities are never random. No matter how chaotic they might seem, everything about them grows out of a need to solve a problem
...And perhaps you can sense, in some small twisting loop of your gut, the convergence of the wrong, of the right, and of the woefully misguided. If you do, then pay sharp attention to the moment you wake, and the moment you fall asleep...For maybe then you will know, without a shadow of a doubt, which is which.
...You know something, don't you?" "I know lots of things--your inquiry needs to be more specific." "Just answer the question." "True/false or multiple choice?
Cowards hide [...] but warriors lie and wait [...] the only difference is whether you're motivated by fear or purpose.
Sometimes we make our alliances not by the shape and color of our flesh but by the convictions of our heart.
Milestone! This is a momentous occasion," he tells her cheerily. "It should be witnessed by a friend." She throws him an icy gaze, and he does a verbal back pedal. "Aaaand since no friends are present, I'll have to do.
You know that feeling you get when your leg falls asleep? Well, I suddenly had that feeling in my spine. Like termites were chewing through the marrow in my backbone.
[...] every time he forces himself to think before acting, it's her voice in his head telling him to slow down. He wants to tell her, but she's always so busy in the medical jet—and you don't just go to somebody and say, "I'm a better person because you're in my head.
Hey," says Hayden, "I'm Switzerland; neutral as can be, and also with great chocolate." "Get lost," Roland tells him. "Already am." And Hayden strolls away.
You don't like her, do you?" "Who, me? No, I love her dearly. Evil scheming bitches are my favorite kind of people." (Risa)
Would you rather die, or be unwound?
If you have to ask then you don't deserve an answer.
How many kids are in the Graveyard?" "A bunch." "Who sends your supplies?" "George Washington. Or is it Abraham Lincoln? I forget." "How often do you receive new arrivals?" "About as often as you beat your wife.
He also keeps his silence when Bible passages become shredded to justify unwinding, and kids start to see the face of God in the fragments.
History is written by the victors--and when there is no victors, it all winds up in the corporate shredders.
They signed the unwind order just to spite each other,but laugh,laugh,laugh,Hayden, because if you ever stop laughing,it might just tear you apart worse than a Chop Shop.
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