No siempre hay un bueno. Ni siempre hay un malo. Casi todo el mundo esta en un punto intermedio.
To allow someone, anyone, to suffer is the greatest sin there is.
He was the thing the world had suffered from most in her four billion years of existence: a stupid man with power.
Poo, Todd! Poo!
The yew tree is the most important of all the healing trees, it said. It lives for thousands of years. Its berries, its bark, its leaves, its sap, its pulp, its wood, they all thrum and burn and twist with life. It can cure almost any ailment man suffers from, mixed and treated by the right apothecary.
Pity is an insult. Kindness is a miracle.
Old world’s mucky, violent, and crowded,” Hildy says, wiping her face with a napkin, “a-splitting right into bits with people a-hating each other and a-killing each other, no one happy till everyone’s miserable.
Mel lets us in the house, and we aren’t two steps inside before Mary Magdalene, our tubby little orange cat, is running a purring streak around Jared’s legs. He touches her nose lightly with his finger. “I see you,” he whispers, and Mary Mags does an ecstatic lopsided spin to the floor, like a falling propeller.
Do all these things, but do not pretend there is a must. That is how evil is rationalized.
We’re all college prep, so most of the hard work had to be done early enough to prove to colleges we’d be worth indebting ourselves forever to them.
If you hear what I say and still wish yourself there, wish yourself a hero, wish yourself a hunter, then either I have failed in my telling or you are a fool.
And that would be the end. So many ends.
Stories don’t always have happy endings.
Besides, what was more perfect an object than a book? The different rags of paper, smooth or rough under your fingers. The edge of the page pressed into your thumbprint as you turned a new chapter. The way your bookmark -fancy, modest, scrap paper, candy wrapper -moved through the width of it, marking your progress, a little further each time you folded it shut.
We must do this. It has been prophesied.′ You relieve yourself of choice. Relieve yourself of consequences. Torture me, harm me, kill me. Do all these things, but do not pretend there is a must. That is how evil is rationalised.
There’s a quiet moment when my Noise fills the room with Manchee, just fills it with him, side to side, barking and barking and needing a poo and barking some more. And dying.
La creencia es la mitad de toda curacion.
He heard the creaking and cracking of wood again, groaning like a living thing, like the hungry stomach of the world growling for a meal. Then.
Sarah felt that any world that needed this many lessons must have something deeply wrong with it.
That was Gudmund’s biggest fault. That he couldn’t be anyone’s everything. But that he’d try anyway.