I wonder what kind of decorations Hobby Lobby sells to ornament the pages dedicated to serial killers in a scrapbook. Lanny.
In bocca al lupo.” It was a phrase that the High Garda used to wish one another luck traveling through the Translation portals, a process that was painful and terrifying and dangerous in equal measure, and it seemed right about now. In the mouth of the wolf. “Crepi il lupo,” thomas responded as Jess’s cell was locked tight, and the he was gone, prodded down the hall and to the outer door and away. Kill the wolf.
You think you’re fighting for freedom. Freedom is dangerous. Give humankind freedom, and they will inevitably fall into chaos and war, religious zealotry and senseless violence. We have kept the peace. And we’ve done it by giving the people what they need, when they need it. Not what they want. Want is nothing but blind and selfish greed.
You are strong in spite of him. Not because of him.
I love these kids. I love them so much it steals my breath and squeezes me flat, and at the same time, it makes me feel weightless and exalted. “I love you both,” I say.
Maybe only the truly damaged can accept each other in the way we do.
Kill me,” he said. “I’d rather be a useless corpse than a useful fool.
And so the very institution we thought would bring the most light to the world has instead drowned it in shadows, and claimed that shadow as full sun. And we, poor blind creatures, have believed the lie. It.
Are you all right?” The question surprised Jess, and it broke through his black shell enough to make him throw a look at his friend. “No.” I didn’t think you were. Everyone wants you to be. That must be worse, that they think you should be fine.
I wonder if it was your father who made you think so little of yourself,” Wolfe said, which was not at all what Jess expected. “Having met the man, I would believe it. But, Jess: don’t believe what the demons whisper in the corners of your mind. We all have demons. You are not to be compared against any of the others, or against your own brother. You are yourself. And if I had not seen genius in you, I never would have kept you in the class. I don’t coddle mediocrity.
Even here, you can ask the wrong questions and speak the wrong truths, Postulants. Here ends today’s lesson. Tota est scientia.
Never too late or too early for pancakes. If you don’t believe that, you can turn around and go, because we are never going to be friends.
He pulled out his personal journal and pen. Jess understood the impulse, all too well, to spill out the bile and hurt into ink, where no one could see it.
Women watched their allies as much as their enemies, if they wished to prevent trouble and keep their power. Especially if all of their subordinates and peers were men. Unfair, perhaps, but practical.
I meant it,” I tell him. “Every bruise. Every cut. Get.
Things happen. Things that physics and math and crap that gets measured in a lab can’t explain. People aren’t just laws and rules, Claire. They’re... sparks. Sparks of something beautiful and huge. And some sparks glow brighter.
Rich men don’t look at people like us as human beings; we’re pieces they move, levers they pull to get what they want.
That’s convenient.
Gina’s long dead, and I don’t mourn her. I feel so distant that I wouldn’t recognize the old me if I passed her on the street. I’m glad I’ve escaped a hell I had hardly even recognized when I was burning in it. Glad that I’ve pulled the kids out, too.
The stars would be different, where he was going. But the moon would be the same.