I feel like there’s so much darkness in all of my books.
From a distance, a clone’s luminous eyes are meant to draw in humans and make them feel safe. Up close, the eyes appear hollow. Because of that, humans tend not to look into our eyes too closely, which I’ve been told is socially preferable, as eyes without souls behind them can be frightening.
What’s better, I wonder – to be a toy for the humans, or to control your own destiny, even if the only way to do so is suicide?
The humans create life, and senselessly cause death. For nothing.
I am a classic ‘Star Trek’ fanatic.
So he’s worth a second shot? The more apt question, my dear, is: are you?
No one would want to read a book in which I explain the science of cloning because it would be very dull and it would also make no sense.
How come princesses always have some huge flaw that can cause their downfall?
Everyone on this island wants something kept quiet. I want to roar.
The desert adapts. The people adapt. Live. Die. Struggle. Suffer. Create. The people in the real world beyond Demesne’s ring are not all manufactured perfection. They deal.
Nick and I could become goodwill ambassadors for the city now that the porno shops on 42nd Street are gone. Must make mental note to contact mayor.
The only use she has for the word fun is to make the word funeral.
Perhaps it’s not that I’m frigid – it’s that once I decide I like a guy, I turn into a raging idiot, unfit for public appearances.
I’ve given him more mixed signals than a dyslexic Morse code operator.
Therefore. Ergo. Erg. Argh. Ugh.
It broke the spell. It’s not that I stopped being happy. I was still inexplicably, utterly happy. But suddenly the happiness had implications.
The complexity embedded in the different levels of meaning that go along with the words “I love you” ought to be a whole mindfuck of a video game.
Lou’s such an old punk he was around when the Ramones were junkie hustlers first and musicians second, when punk meant something other than a mass-marketing concept designed to help the bridge-and-tunnel crowd feel cool.
Wow. I feel like in this riot of people, I have been kicked in the stomach, but by the giddy police. Forget about the need for oxygen. My mouth wants to go back to the place it just left.
I am stronger than words and I am bigger than the box I’m in, and then I see her in the crowd and I fall apart -I am listening and I am listening because what I’m playing isn’t something I’m thinking about, it’s something I’m feeling all over.