You chicks get hot and bothered about anything.
Her voice stopped him. “I woke with your name on my lips every morning. Like a prayer of hope. For now, that’s all I can offer.
I would like to die of natural causes and not of boredom.
Part of Quintana had left this world and Froi knew that part of him was gone as well.
Placing Raffaela in the path of an oncoming car becomes one of the major priorities of the next ten seconds of my life.
We stay like that for a while. No one tries to analyze it or offer solutions. No one interrupts. Sometimes, momentarily, I’m embarrassed by the whole disclosure, but I realize that I trust these people and I don’t know how or when that happened.
At times it’s like sadness has planted itself on her face, refusing to leave, an overwhelming sadness, and sometimes I see despair there, too.
The silence accentuates the beauty of him. The beauty of this first boy of theirs.
Yes, I did,” he says casually. “In the first minute I met them. Then in the second minute, I decided I wasn’t going to be into dudes who treat others like crap only because they can. And then in the third, I actually stopped noticing they were around. I’m easily bored around stupid people.
Thomas Mackee and Jimmy Hailler grasp each other’s hands, one of those brothers-in-arms-we-fought-in-Nam-together grips, but outside this room I don’t think they relate.
Words are intimacy she won’t allow and he would not dare ask for.
And there it was. That slight lisp. That awful accent. That funny face that made him ache. Charlie wasn’t just a cheat. He was a liar as well. Because Violette Zidane wasn’t just the girl he was shagging, like he told the cop. She sort of owned his heart a little. Kind of a lot.
When I was eight years old,” the priest-king confessed, “I wanted to be a god.” The holy man looked around the ragged tent. “Perhaps this is my punishment, but between you and me, I do not believe that the desires of young boys cause catastrophic events. The actions of humans do.
Froi noticed that she said “carrying mine,” not “carrying you.” Lirah and Gargarin still had not acknowledged him as theirs, and he realized that he wanted more from them than they were willing to give. But they seemed broken people who were not good with words, so he kept his silence.
I’d go back to the moment it all fell apart and I’d start there.
But in ten years, no one had ever asked what he was thinking. And he knew that the novice Evanjalin was asking for more than just his thoughts. She wanted the part of him he fought to keep hidden. The part that held his foolish hopes and aching memories.
Do you belong to the king?” he asked, his voice husky. She gently placed his hand against the beating pulse of her heart. Always, always it beat out of control, and he held his hand to it until he felt it perfectly match his. “Yes, Finnikin,” she said. “I belong to the king. I will always belong to him.” And there lay the bittersweet despair of what awaited them in the Valley.
It makes me want to yell at the God that I wish I didn’t believe in. For hogging him all to himself. I want to say, You greedy God. Give him back. I needed him here.
I need desperately to feel it all, so when something wonderful happens, the contrast will be so massive that I will bottle the impact and keep it for the rest of my life.
He has a strange face. It’s all sharpness and angles and incredibly fair skin. But then he’s got this thatch of black hair that’s such a contrast. It’s like two cultures had a massive fight over his face and neither won.