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There are infinite numbers between 0 and 1. There's .1 and .12 and .112 and an infinite collection of others. Of course, there is a bigger infinite set of numbers between 0 and 2, or between 0 and a million. Some infinities are bigger than other infinities. A writer we used to like taught us that. There are days, many of them, when I resent the size of my unbounded set. I want more numbers than I'm likely to get, and God, I want more numbers for Augustus Waters than he got. But, Gus, my love, I cannot tell you how thankful I am for our little infinity. I wouldn't trade it for the world. You gave me a forever within the numbered days, and I'm grateful.

Maybe I’ll post a consumer review. “Brought product to surface of Mars. It stopped working. 0/10.

The reason birds can fly and we can't is simply because they have perfect faith, for to have faith is to have wings.

Most little girls in England grow up wanting to marry a prince. Bex grew up wanting to kick James Bond's butt and assume his double-0 ranking.

My name is Celaena Sardothien," she whispered, "and I will not be afraid.

I want morning and noon and nightfall with you. I want your tears, your smiles, your kisses...the smell of your hair, the taste of your skin, the touch of your breath on my face. I want to see you in the final hour of my life...to lie in your arms as I take my last breath.

She would tuck Sam into her heart, a bright light for her to take out whenever things were darkest.

If you can learn to endure pain, you can survive anything. Some people learn to embrace it- to love it. Some endure it through drowning it in sorrow, or by making themselves forget. Others turn it into anger.

She was fire, she was darkness, she was dust and blood and shadow.

There was no way in hell she was going to move to the southern continent without all of her books.

They will not use my tears for their entertainment.

People," Geralt turned his head, "like to invent monsters and monstrosities. Then they seem less monstrous themselves. When they get blind-drunk, cheat, steal, beat their wives, starve an old woman, when they kill a trapped fox with an axe or riddle the last existing unicorn with arrows, they like to think that the Bane entering cottages at daybreak is more monstrous than they are. They feel better then. They find it easier to live.

It is the obvious which is so difficult to see most of the time. People say 'It's as plain as the nose on your face.' But how much of the nose on your face can you see, unless someone holds a mirror up to you?

Nothing you can take from me was ever worth keeping.

Life isn't easy, no matter where you are. You'll make choices you think are right, and then suffer for them.

Lesser, greater, middling, it's all the same. Proportions are negotiated, boundaries blurred. I'm not a pious hermit, I haven't done only good in my life. But if I'm to choose between one evil and another, then I prefer not to choose at all.

The screen went black before I was out of the airlock. Turns out the “L” in “LCD” stands for “Liquid.” I guess it either froze or boiled off. Maybe I’ll post a consumer review. “Brought product to surface of Mars. It stopped working. 0/10.

This girl wasn’t like wildfire—she was wildfire. Deadly and uncontrollable. And slightly out of her wits.

My name is Hazel. Augustus Waters was the great sat-crossed love of my life. Ours was an epic love story, and I won't be able to get more than a sentence into it without disappearing into a puddle of tears. Gus knew. Gus knows. I will not tell you our love story, because-like all real love stories-it will die with us, as it should. I'd hoped that he'd be eulogizing me, because there's no one I'd rather have..." I started crying. "Okay, how not to cry. How am I-okay. Okay." I took a few deep breaths and went back to the page. "I can't talk about our love story, so I will talk about math. I am not a mathematician, but I know this: There are infinite numbers between 0 and 1. There's .1 and .12 and .112 and infinite collection of others. Of course, there is a Bigger infinite set of numbers between 0 and 2, or between 0 and a million. Some infinities are bigger than other infinities. A writer we used to like taught us that. There are days, many of them, when I resent the size of my unbounded set. I want more numbers than I'm likely to get, and God, I want more numbers for Augustus Waters than he got. But, Gus, my love, I cannot tell you how thankful I am for our little infinity. I wouldn't trade it for the world. You gave me a forever within the numbered days, and I'm grateful.

For thousands of nights I dreamed of making love to you. No man on earth has ever hated sunrise as I do.

Evil is Evil. Lesser, greater, middling… Makes no difference. The degree is arbitary. The definition’s blurred. If I’m to choose between one evil and another… I’d rather not choose at all.

He was swimming in a sea of other people’s expectations. Men had drowned in seas like that.

Well, as they said, it's not over until the mockingjay sings.

Hours passed—or maybe days. It didn’t matter. The body adapted. But the mind— The mind needed purpose.       

People aren’t so bad, really,” she said. “It’s what the world does to them.

My name is Sam Cortland... and I will not be afraid.

My name is Four,” I say. “Call me ‘Stiff’ again and you and I will have a problem.

Love speaks in flowers. Truth requires thorns.

0 plus 100 equals 100. But so does 50 plus 50, only with more balance. Let this be a lesson in love.

I grew up below the poverty line; I didn't have as much as other people did. I think it made me stronger as a person, it built my character. Now I have a 4.0 grade point average and I want to go to college, and just become a better person.

Be kind to dragons, for thou art crunchy when toasted and taste good with ketchup. (Sebastian)

I can wait," he said thickly, kissing her collarbone. "We have all the time in the world.

Snow lands on top

We were not made to please princes.

You see, some people are born with a piece of night inside, and that hollow place can never be filled - not with all the good food or sunshine in the world. That emptiness cannot be banished, and so some days we wake with the feeling of the wind blowing through, and we must simply endure it as the boy did.

I think there’s a natural goodness built into human beings. You know when you’ve stepped across the line into evil, and it’s your life’s challenge to try and stay on the right side of that line.

Dead people can be our heroes because they cant disappoint us later; they only improve over time, as we forget more and more about them.

گرگ شنگول را خورده است گرگ منگول را تکه تکه می کند...0 بلند شو پسرم !0 این قصه برای نخوابیدن است

And from today onward, I want to never be separated from you. Wherever you go, I go. Even if that means going to hell itself, wherever you are, that's where I want to be. Forever.

Can I be honest with you?" Chaol leaned closer, and Celaena leaned to meet him as he whispered: "You sound like a raving lunatic.

Can you define "plan" as "a loose sequence of manifestly inadequate observations and conjectures, held together by panic, indecision, and ignorance"? If so, it was a very good plan.

I love you,” he repeated, shaking her again. “I have for years. But if I asked you to pick, you’d choose Arobynn, and I. Can’t. Take. It.” “You’re a damned idiot,” she breathed grabbing the front of his tunic. “You’re a moron and an ass and a damned idiot." He looked like she had hit him. But she went on, and grasped both sides of his face. “Because I’d pick you.

This goes to show you that sometimes the unseen is not to be feared and that those meant to love us most are not always ones who do.

That is the thing with giving your heart. You never wait for someone to ask. You hold it out and hope they want it

Everything has a price.

There is never a second opportunity to make a first impression.

People”—Geralt turned his head—“like to invent monsters and monstrosities. Then they seem less monstrous themselves.

Words could be just as deadly as steel.

One thing I know: For helping me forget how awful the world is, I prefer her to alcohol.

No matter how old you are now. You are never too young or too old for success or going after what you want. Here’s a short list of people who accomplished great things at different ages 1) Helen Keller, at the age of 19 months, became deaf and blind. But that didn’t stop her. She was the first deaf and blind person to earn a Bachelor of Arts degree. 2) Mozart was already competent on keyboard and violin; he composed from the age of 5. 3) Shirley Temple was 6 when she became a movie star on “Bright Eyes.” 4) Anne Frank was 12 when she wrote the diary of Anne Frank. 5) Magnus Carlsen became a chess Grandmaster at the age of 13. 6) Nadia Comăneci was a gymnast from Romania that scored seven perfect 10.0 and won three gold medals at the Olympics at age 14. 7) Tenzin Gyatso was formally recognized as the 14th Dalai Lama in November 1950, at the age of 15. 8) Pele, a soccer superstar, was 17 years old when he won the world cup in 1958 with Brazil. 9) Elvis was a superstar by age 19. 10) John Lennon was 20 years and Paul Mcartney was 18 when the Beatles had their first concert in 1961. 11) Jesse Owens was 22 when he won 4 gold medals in Berlin 1936. 12) Beethoven was a piano virtuoso by age 23 13) Issac Newton wrote Philosophiæ Naturalis Principia Mathematica at age 24 14) Roger Bannister was 25 when he broke the 4 minute mile record 15) Albert Einstein was 26 when he wrote the theory of relativity 16) Lance E. Armstrong was 27 when he won the tour de France 17) Michelangelo created two of the greatest sculptures “David” and “Pieta” by age 28 18) Alexander the Great, by age 29, had created one of the largest empires of the ancient world 19) J.K. Rowling was 30 years old when she finished the first manuscript of Harry Potter 20) Amelia Earhart was 31 years old when she became the first woman to fly solo across the Atlantic Ocean 21) Oprah was 32 when she started her talk show, which has become the highest-rated program of its kind 22) Edmund Hillary was 33 when he became the first man to reach Mount Everest 23) Martin Luther King Jr. was 34 when he wrote the speech “I Have a Dream." 24) Marie Curie was 35 years old when she got nominated for a Nobel Prize in Physics 25) The Wright brothers, Orville (32) and Wilbur (36) invented and built the world's first successful airplane and making the first controlled, powered and sustained heavier-than-air human flight 26) Vincent Van Gogh was 37 when he died virtually unknown, yet his paintings today are worth millions. 27) Neil Armstrong was 38 when he became the first man to set foot on the moon. 28) Mark Twain was 40 when he wrote "The Adventures of Tom Sawyer", and 49 years old when he wrote "Adventures of Huckleberry Finn" 29) Christopher Columbus was 41 when he discovered the Americas 30) Rosa Parks was 42 when she refused to obey the bus driver’s order to give up her seat to make room for a white passenger 31) John F. Kennedy was 43 years old when he became President of the United States 32) Henry Ford Was 45 when the Ford T came out. 33) Suzanne Collins was 46 when she wrote "The Hunger Games" 34) Charles Darwin was 50 years old when his book On the Origin of Species came out. 35) Leonardo Da Vinci was 51 years old when he painted the Mona Lisa. 36) Abraham Lincoln was 52 when he became president. 37) Ray Kroc Was 53 when he bought the McDonalds Franchise and took it to unprecedented levels. 38) Dr. Seuss was 54 when he wrote "The Cat in the Hat". 40) Chesley "Sully" Sullenberger III was 57 years old when he successfully ditched US Airways Flight 1549 in the Hudson River in 2009. All of the 155 passengers aboard the aircraft survived 41) Colonel Harland Sanders was 61 when he started the KFC Franchise 42) J.R.R Tolkien was 62 when the Lord of the Ring books came out 43) Ronald Reagan was 69 when he became President of the US 44) Jack Lalane at age 70 handcuffed, shackled, towed 70 rowboats 45) Nelson Mandela was 76 when he became President

Whatever! Go save a dolphin or something!" He whirled around. "It's a whale, Alex, a whale! That's what I'm interested in saving." I threw up my arms. "What's wrong with saving dolphins?

This is the problem with making a thing forbidden. It does nothing but build an ache in the heart.

There's a grain of truth in every fairy tale,

You’ve no right to starve people, to punish them for no reason. No right to take away their life and freedom. Those are things everyone is born with, and they’re not yours for the taking. Winning a war doesn’t give you that right. Having more weapons doesn’t give you that right. Being from the Capitol doesn’t give you that right. Nothing does.

It is so much simpler to bury reality than it is to dispose of dreams. ― Don DeLillo, Americana (ACTES SUD; 0 edition, August 10, 1993)

Bad fates do not always follow those who deserve them.

She’s not an easy person; she’s like me, Peeta always says. But she was smarter than me, or luckier.

Before need, before love, came trust.

I know that every year for my birthday, I will get a new pair of tributes, one girl and one boy, to mentor to their deaths. Another sunrise on the reaping.

When we die," she said, "I don't think the gods will even know what to do with us.

You're the one who has to live with your choice, everyone else will get over it, move on, no matter what you decide. But you never will

You can prove anything you want by coldly logical reason---if you pick the proper postulates.

The only number that would ever be enough is 0. Zero pounds, zero life, size zero, double-zero, zero point. Zero in tennis is love. I finally get it.

I love you," he repeated, shaking her again. "I have for years. And he hurt you and made me watch because he's always know how I felt, too. But if I asked you to pick, you'd choose Arobynn, and I. Can't. Take. It.

You said you didn’t care what I thought. Or what I did. Or if I died, if I’m not mistaken." “I lied! And you know I lied, you stupid bastard!

since i will not send this, i also feel it is my duty to inform you that almost six months on I think I still love you and that makes me sad becaue love shouldn’t feel this way. is like getting kicked in the stomach every time i think of you and it makes me want to roll my face across this keyboardbiu;///ubEWdcfhugiov’byhi;.//////-=‘-0i9juh8ygtfdcsaazs34defg7uefg7u8hi9o0p8hi9o0p-[[09ju8dcsaazs34d9o0p-[[09.

Civilization is vastly overrated.

What are lies but attempts to conceal some sort of weakness?

I loved you even when you forgot me. And—for a little while—you loved me back.

Was your mom a gardener?' I asked innocently. 'What?' Ren’s mouth hung open slightly. 'Because a face like yours belongs planted on the ground.

And try not to look down on people who had to choose between death and disgrace.

The girl who'd taken on a Pirate Lord and his entire island, the girl who'd stolen Asterion horses and raced along the beach in the Red Desert, the girl who'd sat on her own rooftop, watching the sun rise over Avery, the girl who'd felt alive with possibility...that girl was gone.

how could he explain what happened? 'hey, honey, i'm an alien and apparently i just doused you with some radioactive loving! wanna catch a movie?' Yeah, not cool.

No miles of level desert, no jagged mountain heights, no sea of endless blue Neither words nor tears, nor silent fears will keep me from coming back to you.

The girl wore her scars the way some women wore their finest jewelry.

You're mine and I'm yours. It's written in the stars.

But she was smarter than me, or luckier. She's the one who finally kept that sun from rising.

You want to know what price I asked for forgiving Arobynn, Celaena?" Sam stood so still the he might have been a statue. "My price was his oath that he'd never lay a hand on you again. I told him I'd forgive him in exchange for that.

Besides, if you're going to die horribly, you might as well do it with style.

If you’re a mistake, I’ll still make it every fucking time.

With you there are only two distances that matter:  Here. Not here. You are not here.

Don’t worry about me handling the pain," I say. "I’ve had a lot of practice.

Nonsense," said the witcher. "And what's more, it doesn't rhyme. All decent predictions rhyme.

A mother, you son-of-a-bitch, is sacred!

You know,” he began, voice low and full, “if you were to ever leave me, I’d come looking for you, on every street.” “You promise?” “Always.” And I knew he kept his promises.

It felt like stepping into a lie told very, very well.           

Routine had become rhythm. Rhythm had become identity.

He removed her hand from his cheek to kiss the tips of her fingers. “I get scared, too,” he murmured onto her skin. “You want to hear something ridiculous? Whenever I’m scared out of my wits, I tell myself: My name is Sam Cortland … and I will not be afraid. I’ve been doing it for years.” It was her turn to raise her brows. “And that actually works?” He laughed onto her fingers. “Sometimes it does, sometimes it doesn’t. But it usually makes me feel better to some degree. Or it just makes me laugh at myself a bit.

What is truth? The negation of lies? Or the statement of a fact? And if the fact is a lie, what then is the truth?

The number doesn't matter. If I got down to 070.00, I'd want to be 065.00. If I weight 010.00, I wouldn't be happy until I got down to 005.00. The only number that would ever be enough is 0. Zero pounds, zero life, size zero, double-zero, zero point. Zero in tennis is love. I finally get it.

The strain of being a full-fledged adult every day had grown tiresome.

She knew how people slipped through cracks—not all at once, but in layers.

You know how the stories go. Interesting things only happen to pretty girls; you will be home by sunset.

Daemon stomped past them, bumping into his brother's shoulder. "You make my head hurt", he said, scowling. "And you make me all warm and fuzzy inside".

Take wrong turns. Talk to strangers. Open unmarked doors. And if you see a group of people in a field, go find out what they are doing. Do things without always knowing how they'll turn out. You're curious and smart and bored, and all you see is the choice between working hard and slacking off. There are so many adventures that you miss because you're waiting to think of a plan. To find them, look for tiny interesting choices. And remember that you are always making up the future as you go.

I stopped allowing myself to dream, because it was more painful to long for things and never get them than to deal with whatever was in front of me.

And the answers she was seeking were on full display, right in front of her. Not chaos. Not blood. Not even sound. Just clarity.

Get ready to unleash hell.

There is a point to everything or nothing at all, depending on your worldview.

The trap is loneliness, and none of us escapes it. Not even me.

I know who I am without anyone there to tell me.

She wore people down like waves wore down stone. Consistent. Patient. Relentless. Merciless.        

How old are you?” “Physiologically, I’m twenty-five. Chronologically, I’m…not.

Time was being stripped from her one second at a time.

Her name wasn’t Jane. Not legally. But she wore it now like a uniform: plain, practical, invisible.

It was the tone of a woman who wrapped needles in silk.

Wars are won by heads not hearts.

They pray that their children will be brave and clever and strong, that they will tell the true stories instead of the easy ones. They pray for sons with red eyes and daughters with horns.

Some days are like this. And the only way to get through them is to remember that they are only one day, and that every day ends.

You are a cad,' he told himself. 'A cur. A bounder. A scoundrel. A ... human thesaurus.

t felt like stepping into a spa, or a dream, or a memory she hadn’t known she missed.

Quiet as mice, quiet as the wind, quiet as the grave.

أتذكر ما قالته لى فى تلك الأثناء "لقد سألت بعض أصدقائى عبر الإنترنت عن القاهرة فأخبرونى أن القاهرة شوارعها قذرة !" .. قلت لها "لن أنكر أن شوارع القاهرة بعضها قذرة .. ولكن قلوب أهلها نظيفة

There is no greater pain or punishment than memory.

What's your name?" he asked above the roar of the music. She leaned close. "My name is Wind," she whispered. "And Rain. And Bone and Dust. My name is a snippet of a half-remembered song." He chuckled a low, delightful sound. She was drunk and silly, and so full of the glory of being young and alive and in the capital of the world that she could hardly contain herself. "I have no name," she purred. "I am whoever the keepers of my fate tell me to be." He grasped her by her wrist, running a thumb along the sensitive sknin underneath. "Then let me call you Mine for a dance or two.

When you expect torture, kindness is more dangerous.

كان دائماً الخوف من الفشل هو أكثر ما يُحركنى لأن أُقاوم وأبذل مجهوداً أكبر

I want some kind of reminder that while wounds heal, they don't disappear forever- I carry them everywhere, always, and that is the way of things, the way of scars.

She didn’t just feel safe. She felt chosen. And for the first time in her life, that felt… right.

The music broke her apart and put her back together, only to rend her asunder again and again.

William: What's your nickname? Maddox: I do not have one. William" I'm happy to give you one. Captain Ass. What do you think? Maddox: I can leave. William: New nickname: Big Baby. Anyway, let's continue...

You have to open up to the world and learn optimism...Contentment with the past, happiness with the present, and hope for the future. Learned optimisim.

Resisting is worth doing.

But hope rises like water trapped by a dam, higher and higher, in increments that mean nothing until you face the flood.

Evil is evil, Stregobor,” said the witcher seriously as he got up. “Lesser, greater, middling, it's all the same. Proportions are negotiated, boundaries blurred. I’m not a pious hermit. I haven't done only good in my life. But if I’m to choose between one evil and another, then I prefer not to choose at all.

I manage because I have to. Because I've no other way out. Because I've overcome the vanity and pride of being different, I've understood that they are a pitiful defense against being different. Because I've understood that the sun shines differently when something changes. The sun shines differently, but it will continue to shine, and jumping at it with a hoe isn't going to do anything.

Ah, i just know. That's my talent, if you were wondering. I just know things." She rolled her eyes, but she was grinning. "What a unique talent" "I know. I amaze myself

They weren't lying. They firmly believed it all. Which doesn't change the facts.

the world was too big, too full of splintered dreams.

أحياناً أشعر أننا كمصريين تربينا على الخوف من الوقوع فى قبضة الشرطة السرية أكثر من الموت ذاته

You underestimate how deeply you cut when your intentions carry no knives.

Dee’s hand fluttered around her as she spoke. “I was outside, and it looked as if a light show was going on in your bedroom. Daemon said you were probably mas—” And Dee also knew no boundaries. “Ah, no, please don’t finish that sentence.” He lowered his hands, eyes narrowing at his sister. “Don’t ever finish that sentence.

The Three Laws of Robotics: 1: A robot may not injure a human being or, through inaction, allow a human being to come to harm; 2: A robot must obey the orders given it by human beings except where such orders would conflict with the First Law; 3: A robot must protect its own existence as long as such protection does not conflict with the First or Second Law; The Zeroth Law: A robot may not harm humanity, or, by inaction, allow humanity to come to harm.

I gave you all my secrets, and you lost them all. You lost a lot of things. But the treasure of it was in the giving, not the keeping.

I know one thing, though: The Capitol can never take Lenore Dove from me again. They never really did in the first place. Nothing you can take from me was ever worth keeping, and she is the most precious thing I’ve ever known. When I tell her that, she always says, “I love you like all-fire.” And I reply, “I love you like all-fire, too.

Sam's hand brushed her shoulder, and she almost jumped out of her skin as he brought his mouth close to her ear and murmured, "You look beautiful. Though I bet you already know that." She most certainly did.

We know you're strong, but accepting help is its own kind of strength.

There are infinite numbers between 0 and 1. There's .1 and .12 and .112 and an infinite collection of others. Of course, there is a bigger infinite set of numbers between 0 and 2, or between 0 and a million. Some infinities are bigger than other infinities... I cannot tell you how grateful I am for our little infinity. You gave me forever within the numbered days, and I'm grateful.

Other people’s judgments were meaningless unless you allowed them to mean something.

The show’s not over until the mockingjay sings,” she said. “The mockingjay?” He laughed. “Really, I think you’re just making these things up.” “Not that one. A mockingjay’s a bona fide bird,” she assured him. “And it sings in your show?” he asked. “Not my show, sweetheart. Yours. The Capitol’s anyway.

You look more of less the same." She strode right past him. "And you still look like a jackass," she said sweetly.

I have all the books I could need, and what more could I need than books?

Świat się zmienia, słońce zachodzi, a wódka się kończy.

I have a glitch, too. Sometimes I forget that I’m not human. I don’t think that happens to most androids.

Magic doesn’t require beauty,’ she said. 'Easy magic is pretty. Great magic asks that you trouble the waters. It requires a disruption, something new.

He couldn't be dead. Not from the dagger, or those dozen pirates, or from the catapult. No, Sam couldn't be so stupid that he'd get himself killed. She'd... she'd... Well she'd kill him if he was dead.

Why am I good to you?” he repeated, his lips brushing against mine as he spoke. “Because I can see you are broken. And I want nothing more than to put you back together.

I need this conversation. They say silence is golden. Maybe it is, although I'm not sure it's worth that much. It has its price certainly; you have to pay for it.

Know that the only remedy for love is to love more.

There is nothing so terrible as a story untold.

In the silence of her bedroom, she swore an oath to the moonlight that if Sam were hurt, no force in the world would hold her back from slaughtering everyone responsible.

Alone with Rolfe, Celaena raised her sword. “Celaena Sardothien, at your service.” The pirate was still staring at her, his face pale with rage. “How dare you deceive me?” She sketched a bow. “I did nothing of the sort. I told you I was beautiful.

Ash twisted toward Daemon, her cheeks flushed. “I can’t believe you’re allowing him to do this. Next thing we know, you’ll be dating a human.” Daemon busted out laughing. “Yeah, not going to happen.

I have no name," she purred. "I'm whoever the keepers of my fate tell me to be.

What glitters may not be gold; and even wolves may smile; and fools will be led by promises to their deaths.

Who has time to make up stories when the truth is so much more interesting?

What young brains lack in experience they sometimes make up for in idealism. Nothing seems impossible to them.

Fifty years," I hackneyed, "is a long time." "Not when you're looking back at them," she said. "You wonder how they vanished so quickly.

Sam glanced at her, a hint of amusement shining in his eyes. Celaena smiled at him, and the world, for one flickering heartbeat, felt right.

Rose and Dimitri moved almost as one entity, like a matched pair of wolfes or lions, both wary and deadly as they studied their surroundings, taking no detail or person for granted.

Let's get this started, people. It won't be long before we all lose our minds.

Batter up, mofo.

She held each sorrow like a chafing grain and grew her grudges like pearls.

She tensed, already taking in every detail she could. But she squared her shoulders. Straightened her spine. “My name is Celaena Sardothien,” she whispered, “and I will not be afraid.

I could never forget your voice. You sound like an angel who’s gotten her wings dirty.

Anything seems possible at night when the rest of the world has gone to sleep.

Do as you will, but harm no one. What you give will be returned to you threefold. Fall in love whenever you can.

She could fly around District 12 all she liked, but she and her mockingjays could never harm him again.

He shook his head, staring at her like a condemned man who beheld the face of his executioner. "Aline," he whispered, "Do you know what hell is?" "Yes." Her eyes overflowed. "Trying to exist with your heart living somewhere outside your body." "No. It's knowing that you have so little faith in my love, you would have condemned me to a lifetime of agony." His face contorted suddenly. "To something worse than death.

Okay. He had a point but it wasn’t like I could tell him anything. I could see me now: Guess what? You ever watch Clash of the Titans or read any Greek fables? Well those gods are real and yeah, I’m sort of a descendant of them. Kind of like the stepchild no one wants to claim. Oh, and I hadn’t even been around mortals until three years ago. Can we still be friends?

Those who don’t play chess think the king is the strongest piece because the game ends when he dies, but they don’t stop to think that if the queen dies first, the king doesn’t have a chance to survive.

Sam smiled, his brown eyes turning golden in the dawn. It was such a Sam look, the twinkle of mischief, the hint of exasperation, the kindness that would always, always make him a better person than she was.

This is the problem with even lesser demons. They come to your doorstep in velvet coats and polished shoes. They tip their hats and smile and demonstrate good table manners. They never show you their tails.

It is easy to kill with a bow, girl. How easy it is to release the bowstring and think, it is not I, it is the arrow. The blood of that boy is not on my hands. The arrow killed him, not I. But the arrow does not dream anything in the night.

She. Spoke. To. Him. First. It was like winning the lottery, getting laid, and climbing the highest cliff all rolled into one. But he needed to play it cool, becase he was trending into lame-o land at a quick pace.

Finish that sentence and i will stab you in the eye with the spork Bethany's about to pull out of her bag for her apple sauce. And she'd be very upset if i got her sprk all messed up. she's rather fond of the thing.

Only Evil and Greater Evil exist and beyond them, in the shadows, lurks True Evil. True Evil, Geralt, is something you can barely imagine, even if you believe nothing can still surprise you. And sometimes True Evil seizes you by the throat and demands that you choose between it and another, slightly lesser, Evil.

What?" he demanded. "Did you just...clean a dish?" Dee backed away slowly, blinking. She glanced at Daemon. "The world is going to end. And I’m still a vir—" "No!" both the brothers yelled in unison. Daemon looked like he was actually going to vomit. "Jesus, don’t ever finish that statement. Actually, don’t ever change that. Thank you." Her mouth dropped open."You expect me to never have—" "This isn’t a conversation I want to start my morning with." Dawson grabbed his book bag off the kitchen table. "I’m so leaving for school before this gets more detailed." "And why aren’t you dressed yet?" Dee demanded, her full attention concentrated on Daemon. "You’re going to be late." "I’m always late." "Punctuality makes perfect.

She would tuck Sam into her heart, a bright light for her to take out whenever things were darkest. And then she would remember how it had felt to be loved, when the world held nothing but possibility. No matter what they did to her, they could never take that away. She would not break. And someday ... someday, even it took her until her last breath, she'd find out who had done this to her. To Sam.

Tell me your deepest secret," she said softly... After a long moment, he spoke. "The only secret I've borne my entire life is that I love you." He gave her a slight smile. "It was the one thing I believed I'd go to the grave without voicing." His eyes were so full of light that their loveliness almost stopped her heart.

Celaena." She looked back at him, her red gown sweeping around her. His eyes shone as he flashed her a crooked grin. "I missed you this summer." She met his stare unflinchingly, returning the smile as she said, "I hate to admit it, Sam Cortland, but I missed your sorry ass, too.

You can blame it on the circumstances, the environment, but you made the choices you made, no one else. It's a lot to take in all at once, but it's essential that you make an effort to answer that question. Who are human beings? Because who we are determines the type of governing we need. Later on, I hope you can reflect and be honest with yourself about that you learned tonight.

When she scooped up her clothes, opened his door, then snapped her fingers for a guard down the hall, Wroth watched like a bystander. “Pssst. Minion. I need these laundered. Very little starch. Don’t just stand there gawking or you’ll anger my good frenemy General Wroth. We’re like this.” He couldn’t see her but knew she was twining two fingers together.

If you can learn to endure pain, you can survive anything. Some people learn to embrace it—to love it. Some endure it through drowning it in sorrow, or by making themselves forget. Others turn it into anger. But Ansel let her pain become hate, and let it consume her until she became something else entirely—a person I don’t think she ever wished to be

Good-bye, Maysilee Donner, who I loathed, then grudgingly respected, then loved. Not as a sweetheart or even a friend. A sister, I’d said. But what is that exactly? I think about our journey — everything from sniping with her in those early days after the reaping to battling those pink birds. I guess that’s my answer. A sister is someone you fight with and fight for. Tooth and nail.

Please don't go." He let out an uneven breath. "You'll be fine without me. You always have been." Maybe once, but not now. "How can I convince you to stay?" "You can't." She threw down the torch. "Do you want me to beg, is that it?" "No-never." "Then tell me-" "What more can I say?" he exploded, his whisper rough and harsh "I’ve already told you everything—I’ve already told you that if I stay here, if I have to live with Arobynn, I'll snap his damned neck.” “But why? Why can’t you let it go?” He grabbed her shoulders and shook her. “Because I love you!” Her mouth fell open. “I love you,” he repeated, shaking her again. “I have for years. And he hurt you and made me watch because he’s always known how I felt, too. But if I asked you to pick, you’d choose Arobynn, and I. Can’t. Take. It.” The only sounds were their breathing, an uneven beat against the rushing of the sewer river. “You’re a damned idiot,” she breathed, grabbing the front of his tunic. “You’re a moron and an ass and a damned idiot.” He looked like she had hit him. But she went on, and grasped both sides of his face, "Because I'd pick you." And then she kissed him.

Sleep, my love," He whispered, smoothing her long hair, lifting the damp locks away from the back of her neck. "I'll be here to watch over you." "You sleep too," she said groggily, her hand creeping to the center of his chest. "No." McKenna smiled and pressed a soft kiss against her temple. His voice was husky with wonder. "Not when staying awake is better than anything I could find in a dream.

I don't believe in Melitele, don't believe in the existence of other gods either, but I respect your choice, your sacrifice. Your belief. Because your faith and sacrifice, the price you're paying for your silence, will make you better, a greater being. Or, at least, it could. But my faithlessness can do nothing. It's powerless.

You can't go." "Give me a reason why I shouldn't." "Because I'll miss you, damn it!" she hissed, splaying her arms. "Because what's the point in anything if you just disappear forever?" "The point in what, Celaena?" How could he be so calm when she was so frantic? "The point in Skull's Bay, and the point in getting me that music, and the point in... the point in telling Arobynn that you'd forgive him if he never hurt me again." "You said you didn't care what I thought. Or what I did. Or if I died, if I'm not mistaken." "I lied! And you know I lied you stupid bastard!

You know, my sister and I can’t understand what Dawson sees in you. You’re just a silly little human.” His arm shot out so fast it was a blur, picked up a strand of her hair. “And you’re really not even that pretty.” Oh…oh, that stung more than it should have. Tears burned her eyes as she fought to keep her voice level. “I guess it’s a good thing, then. A relationship between us would never work.” His eyes narrowed. “And why is that?” “Because I’m allergic to assholes.

Sam," she said. "I'm trying!" "Sam," she repeated. "No," he spat, hearing her tone. "No!" He began screaming for help then. Celaena pressed her face to one of the holes in the grate. Help wasn't going to come-not fast enough. "Please," Sam begged as he beat and yanked on the grate, he tried to wedge another dagger under the lid. "Please don't." She knew he wasn't speaking to her. The water hit her neck. "Please," Sam moaned, his fingers now touching hers. She'd have one last breath. Her last words. "Take my body home to Terrasen, Sam," she whispered. And with a gasping breath, she went under.

My name is Hazel. Augustus Waters was the great star-crossed love of my life. Ours was an epic love story, and I won't be able to get more than a sentence into it without disappearing into a puddle of tears. Gus knew. Gus knows. I will not tell you our love story, because-like all real love stories-it will die with us, as it should. I'd hoped that he'd be eulogizing me, because there's no one I'd rather have..." I started crying. "Okay, how not to cry. How am I-okay. Okay." I took a few deep breaths and went back to the page. "I can't talk about our love story, so I will talk about math. I am not a mathematician, but I know this: There are infinite numbers between 0 and 1. There's .1 and .12 and .112 and infinite collection of others. Of course, there is a Bigger infinite set of numbers between 0 and 2, or between 0 and a million. Some infinities are bigger than other infinities. A writer we used to like taught us that. There are days, many of them, when I resent the size of my unbounded set. I want more numbers than I'm likely to get, and God, I want more numbers for Augustus Waters than he got. But, Gus, my love, I cannot tell you how thankful I am for our little infinity. I wouldn't trade it for the world. You gave me a forever within the numbered days, and I'm grateful.

And Celaena felt it. She felt each footstep, the phantom bruises on her face throbbing with the memory of Arobynn's fists. And suddenly, as the memory of that day echoed through her, she remembered the words Sam kept screaming at Arobynn as the king of the Assassins beat her, the words that she somehow forgotten in the fog of pain: 'I'll kill you!' Sam has said it like he meant it. He'd bellowed it. Again and again and again.

Every period of human development has had its own particular type of human conflict—its own variety of problem that, apparently, could be settled only by force. And each time, frustratingly enough, force never really settled the problem. Instead, it persisted through a series of conflicts, then vanished of itself—what's the expression—ah, yes, 'not with a bang, but a whimper,' as the economic and social environment changed. And then, new problems, and a new series of wars.

Sam smiled, his brown eyes turning golden in the dawn. It was such a Sam look, the twinkle of mischief, the hint of exasperation, the kindness that would always, always make him a better person than she was. Before she knew what she was doing, Celaena threw her arms around him and held him close. Sam stiffened, but after a heartbeat, his arms came around her. She breathed him in—the smell of his sweat, the tang of the dust and rock, the metallic odor of his blood... Sam rested his cheek on her head. She couldn't remember —honestly couldn't recall—the last time anyone had held her. But embracing Sam was different, somehow. Like she wanted to curl into his warmth, like for one moment, she didn't have to worry about anything or anybody. “Sam,” she murmured into his chest. “Hmm?” She peeled away from him, stepping out of his arms. “If you ever tell anyone about me embracing you... I'll gut you.

But why? Why can't you let it go?" He grabbed her shoulders and shook her. "Because I love you!" Her mouth fell open. "I love you," he repeated, shaking her again. "I have for years. And he hurt you and made me watch because he's always known how I felt, too. But if I asked you to pick, you'd choose Arobynn, and I. Can't. Take. It." The only sounds were their breathing, an uneven beat against the rushing of the sewer river. "You're a damned idiot," she breathed, grabbing the front of his tunic. "You're a moron and an ass and a damned idiot." He looked like she had hit him. But she went on, and grasped both sides of his face, "Because I'd pick you." And then she kissed him.

He grasped her by the wrist , running a thumb along the sensitive skin underneath. "Then let me call you Mine for a dance or two" She grinned but someone was suddenly between them, a tall, powerfully built person. Sam. He ripped the stranger's hand off of her wrist. "She's spoken for," he growled, all too close to the young man's maked face. The stranger's friend was behind him in an instant, his bronze eyes fixed on Sam. Celaena grabbed Sam's elbow. "Enough," she warned him. The masked stranger looked Sam up and down, then held up his hands. "My mistake," he said, but winked at Celaena before disappeared into the crowd, his armed friend close behind. Celaena whirled to face Sam. "What in hell was that for?" "You're drunk," he told her, so close her chest brushed his, "And he knew it, too." "So?" Even as she said it, someone dancing wildly crashed into her and set her reeling. Sam caught her around the waist, his hands firm on her as he kept her from falling to the ground. "You'll thank me in the morning." "Just because we're working together doesn't mean I'm suddenly incapable of handling myself." His hands were still on her waist. "Let me take you home.

He uttered a curse that startled her with its foulness, and gripped her head between his hands, forcing her to stare at him. His voice was savage. "For twelve years I have been in constant torment, wanting you in my arms and believing it would never be possible. I want you for a thousand reasons other than your legs, and...no, damn it, I want you for no reason at all, other than the fact that you're you. I want to shove myself deep inside you and stay for hours...days...weeks. I want morning and noon and nightfall with you. I want your tears, your smiles, your kisses...the smell of your hair, the taste of your skin, the touch of your breath on my face. I want to see you in the final hour of my life...to lie in your arms as I take my last breath.

Are you afraid?" Volker questioned while sitting at the table and getting comfortable. "No. But I have incredible luck with dice and I am ruthless. You will lose, gentlemen. I will destroy your lands, take your women, ravish your men, and make your children my slave labor. I will own every castle, house, and farm that is within my reach. I won't be satisfied until I own all of it and you. I will destroy you all, gentlemen, and, to be quite blunt, I don't think you can handle it." Van covered his mouth to keep from laughing out loud and he didn't dare look at his sister. Verner stepped back, motioning to the table. "Now I must insist." "As you wish." Irene sighed and stood. She glanced at Van and gave him a quick wink before turning back to his uncle. "I do hope you're a 'sobber,' Mr. Van Holtz. Nothing I love more than the lamenting of the men I annihilate." "I can't believe you made him cry." "I did not. He just teared up a little." "Yeah. I think it was when you told him, 'I now control your ports and own your manhood.'" "His wife laughed.

Dandelion, staring into the dying embers, sat much longer, alone, quietly strumming his lute. It began with a few bars, from which an elegant, soothing melody emerged. The lyric suited the melody, and came into being simultaneously with it, the words bending into the music, becoming set in it like insects in translucent, golden lumps of amber. The ballad told of a certain witcher and a certain poet. About how the witcher and the poet met on the seashore, among the crying of seagulls, and how they fell in love at first sight. About how beautiful and powerful was their love. About how nothing - not even death - was able to destroy that love and part them. Dandelion knew that few would believe the story told by the ballad, but he was not concerned. He knew ballads were not written to be believed, but to move their audience. Several years later, Dandelion could have changed the contents of the ballad and written about what had really occurred. He did not. For the true story would not have move anyone. Who would have wanted to hear that the Witcher and Little Eye parted and never, ever, saw each other again? About how four years later Little Eye died of the smallpox during an epidemic raging in Vizima? About how he, Dandelion, had carried her out in his arms between corpses being cremated on funeral pyres and buried her far from the city, in the forest, alone and peaceful, and, as she had asked, buried two things with her: her lute and her sky blue pearl. The pearl from which she was never parted. No, Dandelion stuck with his first version. And he never sang it. Never. To no one. Right before the dawn, while it was still dark, a hungry, vicious werewolf crept up to their camp, but saw that it was Dandelion, so he listened for a moment and then went on his way.