Alex G Quotes

I don’t think you’re going to need me when you jump this time.” Alex looked straight at me. “This time, I think you’re going to fly.

I can't repair my wall as fast as you can tear it down.

Alexis, please mind your mouth. Cursing in Russian is still cursing.

Alex screamed and lashed out at the points of light from within, desperate for something tangible to rage against. Caleb wrapped his arms around her from behind and coaxed her out while glaring at the Metigen in loathing. Then he lessened his hold on her to a single hand. Together they turned their backs on the alien and began walking away.

Caleb!” The sharp, forceful tone demanded he halt. He found he had complied, but did not turn around. His voice sounded low and hoarse, likely because he couldn’t breathe. “Alex, I can’t.

As the sky began to darken she sank down in the chair. She had just watched over a thousand Alliance soldiers die in the space of less than a minute. Yet the encounter would be considered a victory, for the enemy was vanquished. But at such a cost. She considered what Alex had asked of her…and began to understand.

I had never lain in bed next to a man and wanted to feel absorbed into his body, like a kit into the uterine wall of a rabbit - a gross metaphor, but love is rife with body parts, with wet hearts and thudding rib cages and heaving bosoms and salty loins and velvety genitals. You can't have erotic love without the rank grittiness of dirty bodies, and bodies, like desires are disgusting. Such was my love for Alex that I liked his morning breath.

Alex thrust her hand and half her arm into the labyrinth of light. Her stare blanked, and in the halo of the matrix her eyes and glyphs blazed so radiantly she looked as if she were being consumed by a primordial fire. “She just stuck her hand into Machim Command’s central server matrix!” Caleb smiled, watching on in blatant awe. “She does that.

Her perception was propelled backward, as if it were being pulled into a vortex. She slammed into her body, and her eyes flew open with a gasp. “Alex?” She sat straight up in the chair and grabbed Caleb by the shoulders. “We have to save them.

Yes, she loved her ship more than she had loved him. But what she loved even more was what it gave her: freedom, and the key to the marvels of space. It gave her the stars, and she doubted she could ever love anything or anyone more than she loved the stars.

Her pulse raced, pounding in her ears above the howling wind. A wave of dizziness crashed over her with the rapid flood of adrenaline. She gasped in a breath. “Don’t let go.

No, we absolutely should do it. If we can capture such a motherlode, it could make a pivotal difference in the coming war. We need it. AEGIS needs it, my mother needs it. This is why we’re here. “I’m merely pausing at the precipice of the cliff, peeking down into the chasm and asking, ‘Are we sure?’ So…” Alex eyed him wearing an uneasy grimace “…are we sure?

Maybe it was possible to relinquish control. He could do this, with Bengt he could. Give himself up and fly. He closed his eyes, let himself be pulled in by the touch. Bengt's arms. Bengt's hands on his thighs, arms, chest. Lips and tongue on neck and shoulders, the need for more. 'Don't stop.

Hannah, cuando una persona desaparece de tu vida, a veces los recuerdos también se van y es muy difícil que vuelvan. Es difícil recordar a una persona que ya no sabes qué está haciendo ahora mismo o qué pasó con ella. Simplemente, cuando te abandonan, tú también los dejas ir. Y los recuerdos buenos y malos se van.

The alien reached out her hands to hold Alex’s tightly. “Please. Some of what I want to express, it may be difficult to locate the right words.” “Of course.” Pure alabaster eyes stared back at her. “Child, there is a hole in your mind.

Bengt didn’t budge. “Talk to me, damn it.” “Let go!” “And where are you planning to go, Alex?” “Away!” “You can’t get away. You’re lugging your own prison around with you and patching up any holes from inside. Brilliant tactics, really! How does it feel?” “Safe!

In the corner of her eye she caught her daughter’s shoulders drop as Alex exhaled with uncommon soberness. “So you trust me, and you understand that I will never do anything I think might hurt you.” Miriam stopped outside the armory and pivoted to her daughter. “Alex, what have you done?

In the space of a breath he had crossed the distance separating them and spun her around into a vise grip from behind. Somehow, the gun was out of her hand and in his. He locked her arms between them and raised the gun to her temple. His voice resonated low and dangerous at her ear. “Just so we’re very clear. If I want to kill you, I can kill you.

We know that Donald Trump loves S.C.A.P.E.G.O.A.T.S. Now he has stooped to new lows - Separating Children And Parents Entering Gateways Of America Truly Sucks !

They sit in their soundproof rooms and issue tone-deaf edicts and call themselves controlling the world. And one day they ask you to die for them.

In sum, every pore of his being oozed one thing…okay, FINE. Every pore oozed two things. The first was irrelevant. The second was dangerous.

The best thing about being an author is the unspoken approval to dream while awake.

I’m single. Well, no. I’m a writer so I am one person with many others always running around my noggin, so I guess I’m a... plural?

I only read books with words on the pages. I'm picky like that.

I never talk to myself. I talk to the voices in my head, the characters in my stories and, of course, the other-dimensional beings who sometimes swing by on their way to another reality.

Expect an army of Vigil drones, nearly as a many Praesidis guards, a Machim ground detachment of super-soldiers and at least one Inquisitor. Oh, and security barriers everywhere. Possibly some of those mechs we met on Helix Retention, too. You Humans have kicked off a shitstorm of epic proportions.” Alex spread her arms wide in an exagerrated shrug. “It’s one of our best skills.

I’ll gloss right over the implication in what you said that the Reor are sentient entities—for now. Dare I ask why they gave you a copy of their universal decryption key?” Alex and Caleb shared a look, and she shrugged. “We can only speculate, but it’s possible they want us to win.” Miriam dropped her elbows on the table. “Hmm. Okay. In that case, I welcome the minerals to our side of the fight.

Coordinates streamed into her mind while she yanked on her environment suit, foregoing every safety check she’d ever learned. ‘Alex, we will try to help him together, but it is far too dangerous—’ She grabbed the module she used to access the circuitry of the ship, bypassed Valkyrie and fired up the Caeles Prism. ‘Alex—’ She opened a wormhole in the middle of the cabin, set its exit point at the coordinates Valkyrie had provided, and ran through it.

I thought I’d lost him – lost my chance. But he didn’t push me away. Instead, he slipped both his arms around me, slid his hands up my back beneath my coat, and gathered me gingerly against his chest. He rested his forehead against mine under the brim of his hat. Our breath mingled in the thin space between us. “You had brown eyes,” he said.

Because life must go on. We have to keep up appearances. We can't risk doing anything suspicious. All the greatest superheroes had other identities. They had real, everyday lives to keep them grounded and their sects safe. They had people to lice and fight for in the real world. Superman had Lois Lane. Spider-Man had--" "Mary Jane." "I was going to say Gwen.

During homeroom, before first period, I start a bucket list in one of my notebooks. First on the list? 1) Eat in the cafeteria. Sit with people. TALK TO THEM. 2) And…that’s all I can come up with for now. But this is good. One task to work on. No distractions. I can do this. When my lunch period rolls around, I forgo the safety of my bag lunch and the computer lab and slip into the pizza line, wielding my very own tray of semi-edible fare for the first time in years. “A truly remarkable sight.” Jensen cuts into line beside me, sliding his tray next to mine on the ledge in front of us. He lifts his hands and frames me with his fingers, like he’s shooting a movie. “In search of food, the elusive creature emerges from her den and tries her luck at the watering hole." I shake my head, smiling, moving down the line. “Wow, Peters. I never knew you were such a huge Animal Planet fan.” “I’m a fan of all things nature. Birds. Bees. The like.” He grabs two pudding cups and drops one on my tray. “Pandas?” I say. “How did you know? The panda is my spirit animal.” “Oh, good, because Gran has this great pattern for an embroidered panda cardigan. It would look amazing on you.” “Um, yeah, I know. It was on my Christmas list, but Santa totally stiffed me." I laugh as I grab a carton of milk. So does he. He leans in closer. “Come sit with me.” “At the jock table? Are you kidding?” I hand the cashier my lunch card. Jensen squints his eyes in the direction of his friends. “We’re skinny-ass basketball players, Wayfare. We don’t really scream jock.” “Meatheads, then?” “I believe the correct term is Athletic Types.” We step out from the line and scan the room. “So where were you planning on sitting?" “I was thinking Grady and Marco were my safest bet.” “The nerd table?” I gesture to myself, especially my glasses. “I figure my natural camouflage will help me blend, yo.” He laughs, his honey-blond hair falling in front of his eyes. “And hey,” I say, nudging him with my elbow, “last I heard, Peters was cool with nerdy.” He claps me gently on the back. “Good luck, Wayfare. I’m pulling for ya.

There are wonders to behold in our world that few will ever experience…Wonders capable of providing an artist inspiration for a lifetime; Wonders to make the world into a place of beauty, and wonders that show us the connections we all share. We each enter our lives like a drop of water into a still ocean, spreading out with each experience in waves, touching the lives of each and every person we meet; and they, in turn, share their lives and experiences with us.

to make you mad.” “Of course you didn’t,” he said with a scowl. “All you meant to do was descend into my girlfriend’s body, demand I risk my neck to take you into a high security area–

With Alex, my fortress of solitude grew a Juliet balcony. The balcony became a balustrade, the balustrade a veranda. Before I knew it, the fortress was open, and soft winds blew past gossamer curtains. My heart had become a home, and I did not live there alone.

We’ll go along with it for now. Valkyrie, keep close watch and be ready to swoop to the rescue.” ‘Hopefully swooping will not be required, nor rescue. But I am ready to do both.’ He squeezed her hand. “Alex?” “I’m ready, too.

High-protein plants Spinach (3 cups, cooked): 15 g of protein Asparagus (3 cups, cooked): 12 g Lentils (1 cup, cooked): 18 g Oats (½ cup, dry): 13 g Quinoa (1 cup, cooked): 8 g

I’ll go first,” Blue said, swinging his leg over the edge and stepping down. “There are a few rungs, then you have to drop the rest of the way. Not too far, though.” He got to the last rung and dropped down. I heard his feet hit the ground, followed by a stumble and a thud, and then he swore. Only he didn’t say any of the words I was acquainted with. I distinctly heard him say, “Applesauce.” “Applesauce?” I threw my head back and laughed. I’d never heard anything so adorable in all my life. “Stop laughing at me and get yourself down here,” he called back. But I couldn’t stop. I laughed all the way down the ladder and kept laughing as I dropped to the floor. It was farther than I thought it would be, and I lost my balance like Blue and fell right on my butt. I laughed even more until tears stung my eyes and my ribs hurt. “Oh, come on,” he said, hauling me to my feet. “It’s not like you’ve never heard that one before.” I could hear the red coloring his cheeks. He was embarrassed, which made it even more adorable, but he wasn’t the type to stay embarrassed for long

I don’t read history for the same reason I don’t touch cats. Or ride Ferris wheels. Or go anywhere near boats or water.” “And why’s that?” I drop my foot to the floor and clasp my hands between my knees. “Because I don’t want to have déjà vu.” “And you have déjà vu when you touch a cat?” “No.” I toss my head back with a groan and stare at the white paneled ceiling. There’s a yellowed water stain in the corner. “I mean yes. I did have. Once. When I was four.” “Tell me about it.” I close my eyes and tell myself I have nothing to lose. What was the worst Dr Farrow could do to me? Send me to a mental institution? I was pretty sure I’d have déjà vu there too. It wasn’t something you could hide from.

Ma patched you up the best she could and got you dressed and in bed. I told her not to bother curling your hair, but she did it anyway. Made it easier for her to look at that knot at the back of your head.” He reached up and flipped one of my striped cotton curlers with his fingers. “Looks cute, though. Very John Philip Sousa.” At first I thought he meant I looked like the heavily bearded composer on the cover of one of Pops’ old records, the guy who wrote all those patriotic marches the marching bands play during parades, but I shot him a playful glare when I got the reference. The red, white, and blue rag curlers. “Oh yes, I know, very Stars and Stripes Forever.

Turning fiction into mechanical puzzle pieces – like something you could manufacture in an assembly line – was the only way I could pass his literature assignments. Plug protagonist into slot A. Attach conflict and dramatic irony, using two minor characters and one antagonist. Rotate ninety degrees and locate symbolism. Slide climax into place, and fasten with resolution. Use the provided bonding compound if structure seems unstable. No problem.

You're right. I should make more of an effort to get along with people. Even you." "God, Alex, that's so sweet of you." She turns back to the computers. "Now I totally feel life renting movies and eating ice cream in our jammies.

I thought you'd think it was a good idea." "Porter, it's the worst idea. The absolute worst idea in the history of ideas." "Because?" "Because he's cool." "He's cool?" "He's cool, and already super popular, and all the girls think he's gorgeous and talk about his ass and how he's a sandwich, and I'm Wayspaz the Fix-It Freak, and I don't want him seeing me like that.

There's all this awkward silence between us, and I hate it, and I hate myself, and I'm frowning so hard at the dishes I could probably scare the dirt and grime straight down the drain.

Yeesh. You’re like an insurance agent and a parent wrapped up in one.

Oh. My. God. Was I flirting with Judd Carter?

So?” I say, kneeling down on the floor and sticking Charade in the DVD player. “So you don’t have any friends. You don’t know what it’s like.” Mom unfolds one of Gran’s afghans and drapes it over the back of the couch. “That’s not true. Alex has friends.” Claire fists her hands on her hips. “Name one.” Mom’s face goes a little blank as she thinks about it. Then she says, “Paisley,” and smiles at me. “She sits next to you in Sunday School.” I turn my head to the side so she can’t see me grimace. Paisley isn’t exactly my friend. She does sit next to me in Sunday School, but we never speak. She’s weird, even for my standards. For one, she always wears flannel pajamas and hiking boots. To church and to school. And two? She always has a handful of mayonnaise packets in her backpack. Which she snacks on. During class. I shudder just thinking about the sound she makes sucking on those packets. “And what about Jensen?” Mom says. “He’s been your friend since you two were in the church nursery together.” I roll my eyes. “Mom, just because Paisley and Jensen are in my general vicinity at church and school doesn’t mean they’re my friends.” “See?” Claire says.“Jensen isn’t her friend. She just has that huge crush on him still.” I don’t even attempt to dispute it like I normally would. Claire’s like a pit bull when it comes to arguing. Once she sinks her teeth in, she doesn’t let go. And I don’t have the energy to spar with her tonight. Besides, it’s not like my crush on Jensen was ever a secret in this family. Even Pops knows about it. He used to pinch me right above my knee where it tickles, and if I laughed, it meant I was “boy crazy.” Boy crazy for Jensen Peters. I laughed every time, dammit.

My whole life is made up of lies now. I wear them like scarves and hats and little flowers in my hair.

It's a scary thought, random people accessing Limbo. If only Gesh had written a poem about his discovery and left it well enough alone, like Dante. But then again, I wouldn't have been created.

See that?" Micki says about the green line. "That means your brain's working. Congrats." She flips a few switches on the machine until there are three different-colored lines, one red, one green, one blue. "See this red one here? That's your excitement level. If you think of something exciting, it'll rise on the screen. This blue one tells me how bored you are." The blue line is higher than the red. "Does that mean I'm bored?" "Yes. And I'm extremely offended." "But I'm not bored. I'm freaked out. Thoroughly." "This is you freaked out?" she says, looking me up and down. "Good grief, Four. What do you look life when you're relaxed? Like a stroke victim?" I give her the same look I've been giving her since the day I met her. She meets it with her usual tiger grin.

Hello, Alex." I turned around, and there he was, wearing a young man's body, maybe a few years older than myself. He was tall and broad with deep, dark skin, a flashing smile, and... wait for it... an afro. Porter in a black turtleneck and honey-brown leather jacket. Porter in corduroy bellbottoms and glossy snakeskin boots. Oh, I was in heaven. Looking him up and down, I let out a whistle. "Damn." "What?" "You're fine, Porter, my man." "I'm... fine?" "This body you're in. It's attractive. If only I knew this guy way back when, know what I'm sayin?" "Alex," he says in his most dignified, authoritative voice. "These bodies deserve respect. We're borrowing them without their consent and making them do things they wouldn't otherwise. We've discussed this." "Are you saying you don't want me to stare at your butt?" "Please so not stare at my butt.

Then we need to find another machine, and fast." "No time," I said, my eyes already darting around the room. "If I go traipsing around the whole building, trying key after key on that ring, I'll run into the janitor. We're safer if we stay in one spot. Besides, I can totally fix it." Porter raised his thick black eyebrows. "You can?" "You doubt me, Saturday Night Fever? Watch and learn.

See that?" Audrey says, pointing her floppy pizza slice at the screen. "She doesn't look any different without her glasses and yet he acts life it's this huge transformation. She was already sexy. She didn't need to take them off." "Well," I say, stretching my legs out and sinking into Audrey's pillows beside her, "it wasn't sexy to be smart, independent, and own your own bookshop back then. You had to take your glasses off and let your hair down to get noticed by a dreamboat like Bogart." Audrey makes an ugly sound in her throat. "I like to think guys have evolved since then," Jensen says, chewing. "I admire your faith in the make species," I say. "Hey, I love it when you talk nerdy to me," he says, lifting a brow. "So, clearly, there's been some evolving going on." "Audrey grabs another slice and takes a huge bite. "You're just one of the rare good ones, Jensen. An anomaly.

Little things at first. Sunlight. Melodies. Smells. They'll awaken something inside you. An image will flash. Then you'll remember deeper things. Like how you felt when he touched you. Kissed you." I grip the armrests of the chair, trying to stay cool. "Would you stop?" "I thought you'd want to be prepared. Those memories, they're going to feel real. And you may start having urges--" "Oh god, please don't use that word. Why are adults always using that word?" "What word? Urges?" "Gah." I plus my ears. She shrugs. "I'm just saying." "Stop saying. And stop planting stuff in my head." "She raises a sharp eyebrow. "I'm planting stuff in you head now? How very sci-fi of me.

The air was filled with a combination of scents, some delicious like stews bubbling over fires, some sweet and fresh like the tunnel of honeysuckle vines we ducked under, and others sharp and pungent. They quite literally smelled like shit. 'Yep. that's exactly what you smell,' Micki said. 'No plumbing, you know. But they had fascinating uses for excrement back then. They used to cook it with human hair to use as fertilizer. Sometimes they'd distill it like wine and spray it on their crops. Brilliant, no?' I scrunched my nose at the thought. 'Still enjoying time travel?' she asked. 'When the time comes, you'll have to find a comfy log in the woods to do your business.' 'Focus, Micki.' I tried to sound stern. She was distracting me. 'Yes, ma'am.

Remember when I said this story was about death? I suppose it's about life too. All the tiny moments throughout each day that remind us we're alive, that we have breath, that we have worth. Taking a leap of faith. Learning something new. Stepping outside our comfort zones. Lifting our palms from the handlebars and stretching them to the sky. The little things that show us we're meant to be here, taking up this tiny bit of space on earth. Our life has meaning. We have meaning. And we can see proof of it every day, if we choose to look. All these years I've turned away from it, ignoring it, letting the shadow of doubt consume me like dark clouds. I truly believed I was The Worst. That the world would be better off without me because of all the mistakes I've made. But now I'm learning to keep my eyes wide open, to see the crocuses in the snow, the tiny slivers of light that glint through the storm. To count my blessings, gather them up in my arms and never let go. I won't let anyone take them from me, not without a fight. Because the most beautiful things in life are unseen, unheard, They must be lived, felt, like the soul on fire. And mine, I swear, it blazes within me.

When I arrive home, the house is brimming with the scent of Gran’s molasses cookies. One of her specialties. The moment I walk through the door, she tosses me an oven mitt. “Can you watch these for me, Allie Bean? I ran out of butter. There’s a few minutes left on the timer, so when it goes off, check if they’re done. If not, set it for another five minutes. Don’t you let my sugar babies burn.

This is how it is. You and me, we die. It’s what we do.

Levi didn’t trust my idea, but it was a heck of a lot better than his “just run as fast as you can from a swarm of security guards” plan. I had to seal the deal. Cut Gesh off at the knees. Not at the freaking elbow.

Hey, Wayfare,” Robbie says, falling in step at my side. He’s the type of guy who’s always getting in the middle of things. If there’s a pot to stir, he’s the first to volunteer. It’s like he carries around his own special spoon. “Lotta crap goin’ around about you and Jensen today.

I can see perfectly and clearly. And my glasses are still on the nightstand. I bolt upright and look around my room. Everything – every poster, every tool, every spare part, every spool of wire – I can see it all crisp and clear. I saw every strand of Mom’s hair in perfect precision. Her tired eyes. The steam rising from her mug. It should’ve all been a blurred mess of colored blobs. I should’ve had to drag my glasses on before any of my surroundings made sense. I grab my glasses and slide them on. Everything shifts out of focus. I take them off and my world sharpens. I scowl down at my frames like they’ve betrayed me somehow. Then I fumble for my cell phone and dial Porter’s number. “Alex?” “You have to do something,” I say, panicked. “I woke up and now I’m Peter freaking Parker.” “Peter who?” “I can see. Like 20/20. I don’t need my glasses anymore.” “Oh. Well, that must be a residual from Shooter Delaney. She was a sharp shooter, you know.” “Is that all you have to say?” “What do you want me to say?” “I want you to tell me how to reverse it.” There’s a pause on the other end of the phone. “You want… your bad vision back?” “Yes.” “…Why?” “Because my other option is explaining to my parents how I have perfect vision all of a sudden. I’m pretty sure they won’t buy the whole ‘bitten by a radioactive spider’ thing.

So, can you tell all the jerks at school that I have a boyfriend? And that you and I are just friends? Maybe that’ll get the guys off my back and the girls won’t hate me so much.” “What? They don’t hate you.” “Yes they do.” “Why would they hate you?” “Um, maybe because you and I are friends now?” I swear, he can be so oblivious sometimes. “We’ve always been friends.” “OK, well, they hate me now that you’ve made our friendship public.” “That’s a ridiculous reason to hate someone.” “Jensen, if you haven’t figured out by now that most girls are shallow, shallow creatures, then there’s no hope for you. They hate other girls for far less than that. Trust me.” “That’s messed up.” “Tell me about it.

His eyes widen. “Wow. You really are a fix-it whiz.” “Fix-it Freak, you mean?” I toss the books in the back seat and buckle my lap belt. “Fix-it Freaking Awesome, maybe.

Thank God, my host body finally came through and took over. I didn’t know how long I could get by with Porter’s don’t talk to the locals advice, especially since I was part of the gang.

You want me to help fix her up?” “Oh, I want much more than that. I want a commitment, baby.” He drops to one knee, right in the snow, soaking his jeans straight through. He looks up at me, holding the keys out in his palms. “Alex Wayfare, I want to make sweet engine music with you. Will you be my mechanic?” Two of my neighbors walk by with their dog, staring and grinning, and I yank Jensen to his feet. “Get up before someone thinks you’re proposing, you goof.” “Is that a yes?” I take the keys in one hand and slap his arm with the other. “Yes,” I say with a laugh. “Now stop making a scene.

Alex peered behind her to see Noah fussing over a scrape on Kennedy’s cheek. “Unless someone’s bleeding to death, first aid will have to wait. You’ll want to strap into the jump seats. “This could get interesting, and that’s before we get clear of the station.

My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I pull it out as my heart leaps into my throat, but it's only Claire asking when I'll be done with my "makeout sesh." I stare at the scree, trying to think of a biting reply, but dammit, nothing comes to mind. Not with Jensen standing there watching me.

Books are powerful things. Our memories may fade, but the written word lasts across lifetimes.

I'm a ghost." He speaks the words to the dark sky. To the stardust. "That's all I am. A ghost, wandering through time, haunting you.

He has tattoos. All over. Each one symbolizing his time with you. Did you know that?" I shake my head and look everywhere, anywhere but at Micki. I don't want to think about Levi's tattoos, what they represent, or where they might be located. I'd rather think about the wattage of the overhead fluorescent lights or the speed of the processors powering the CPUs. "You do know you used to sleep together, though, right? That you lived together at AIDA? That fine specimen of a man was your personal boy toy. You had him wrapped around your finger and dipped in chocolate. He did anything you asked. And I mean anything." "Um," I say, squirming in my chair. " Too much info." I'm so not in the mood to hear about my past self's sex life. Plus, it feels disrespectful to Levi. Not to mention that it makes me feel really freaking weird. And really freaking nauseous. "Aw, did I burn your New Life virgin ears?" Micki pouts, a sarcastic puppy frown.

When are you going to get your license?” Claire asks, half-jogging to keep up with me. “You need a car. Madeline’s sister has a car. She picks her up every day.” Madeline’s sister is none other than my bestest friend in the world, Tabitha. “Well, Madeline’s sister doesn’t have to pay for her car. So that makes it easy.” “It’s a convertible.” “How nice.” “It’s black.” “Ah, the same as her heart.

Helena let me borrow a silk scarf to go with the green trench and white gloves. When she secured a navy blue cloche hat over my hair, I almost didn’t recognize myself. I felt very much the part, standing next to Blue in his white collar shirt, green sweater vest and tie, caramel-colored suit, and brown flat cap tilted to the side. Helena whistled and said he was the eel’s hips, whatever that meant. When I told him he looked smokin’ hot, he just shook his head and said, “Nah, I’m not hot at all. This suit breathes really well.” I won’t lie. In that moment, my heart melted a little for Nicholas Piasecki.

Open mouth, insert foot. It's becoming such a regular occurrence for me it should be considered exercise. "I'm sorry. I've never actually had a gay friend before. I'm probably going to say a lot of stupid things." "'Wait, we're friends now?" "She acts shocked. "I thought you didn't have any of those, let alone gay ones." "I don't have many." "I wonder why." Touché.

I can tell by his tone that he's amused. If he were normal, he'd be grinning back at me.

I raise my middle finger in his direction. A salute to his douchebagness. Levi frowns, and I think he's going to scold me. Instead he says, "I'd like to punch that kid in the face, but I feel like that would be frowned upon." "I don't care. I'll help hold him down.

Wow, Tab, is the Resting Bitch Face, or are you just happy to see me?

I'm a time traveler. I travel to far-off lands, places, and times you can only dream of. With a snap of a finger, a gasp, a blink, I am there. I've skinny-dipped in the sixties, robbed a steam train in the 1800s, run from gangsters during Prohibition, climbed to mountains outside Beijing. I don't know how many reincarnations I have left. I don't know my first parents, my first family. All I know is that I'm an orphan of the stars, born to countless families with countless sisters and brothers and lovers and friends. Countless enemies, I suppose, as well. I've toured Dante's castle in Limbo. I can speak Chinese and Danish. I've stolen treasures worth millions, turned them over in my hands. I've been shot twice. I broke a boy's nose at school. I know kung fu. I'm dying. I don't know how to trust. I'm angry, and I'm bitter, and you are the only bright spot in all of it.

I turn a corner, leaving the nonfiction section, and almost bump right into Jensen. “Hey, Wayfare,” he says, looking at my stack of thick, hardback books. “Doing a little light reading?” “Heh. Yeah.” I veer past him and head for a table in the back, hoping he doesn’t follow. He does. Great. The books topple from my arms and onto the table. A couple tumble to the floor. Jensen retrieves them for me and looks at the titles. “Famous Train Robberies of the 1800s,” he says. “Rare and Priceless United States Coins.” He quirks a brow at me. “Going treasure hunting?” I actually let myself smile. “Yep. I’m traveling back in time to thwart a heist. Want to come along?” “Sure. Is your time machine a two-seater?” “No, but it’s got a trunk.

Holy shit, I said to me team. I know kung fu?

Do you think the stars stare back at us? I asked... "Oh, I think they watch us with rapt attention," Blue said. "Especially during the day, when we ignore them, when our eyes can't see past the blue. It's quite the partnership, you know. We put on a show for each other. We're both spectacles." As he spoke, I stretched out on my back, hands clasped behind my head, admiring his profile. The slope of his nose. The curve of his lips. The set of his jaw. Then I turned my gaze to the endless stars above us, and the constellations I knew by name. They were all there, shining the same as they do over two hundred years in the future. They traveled with me, my companions on this journey. Orion was driving, Cassiopeia was riding shotgun, and I was in the backseat singing 'Stardust' and 'Orion is Arising' and 'Catch a Falling Star.

Did you really brake his nose?" God. Yes. In two places, apparently. But no words come out. It won't ever happen again. I could say it with honesty. I'll be dead soon enough. Dad's quiet for a long time. I'm afraid to glance at him, fearing I'll find disappointment clouding his kind gray eyes, but when I finally get the courage to peek at him he's not looking at me. His eyes are straight ahead, one of his fists raised in my direction. "Fist bump," he says with the proudest of smiles.

when people are working together doing the same thing in synchrony with others—e.g., rowing together, dancing together—our bodies release endorphins,

How do I get inspired? Life.

She and Kennedy both dove for the power connector; Kennedy reached it first and yanked out the connection as Alex landed on her stomach beside it. The air settled down until the fine hairs on her arm no longer stood on end. Alex dropped her forehead to the platform and started laughing. “Just like university, isn’t it?” “Almost—nothing’s actually blown up yet.

Heading toward the ladder immediately, Alex muttered, “I hate ladders.” “Afraid of falling?” Elis asked, with a hint of teasing in her voice. Alex shook her head in her helmet. “No, I just prefer 0-G and a flight pack.

A veces es mejor perdonar y olvidar, si no, el dolor te hace más daño y puedes acabar como la persona que te ha hecho sufrir.

Ocultar sus sentimientos los destruía por dentro. A veces era mejor expresarlos, de lo contrario, uno acababa explotando.

§417. The purpose of science is to be turned into technology, and the purpose of technology is to be used in the construction of the Overman. Any purpose other than this is false, at worst a challenge to our culture (since the Overman IS culture: its last and highest achievement), at best a mere misunderstanding. As for "pure science", this is as much of an absurdity as pure spirit: things we can't influence we have no interest in. And it is only because we can influence everything (because flux: either we can influence everything or nothing, since in a universe of flux changing one thing changes everything) that we are interested in everything. So if we help African children, it is only with a view to turning them into scientists and engineers to help construct the Overman. If we support the arts, we do so to inspire the Overman and help him to relax, or to use failed artists as waiters to serve the Overman his meals. Or McDonalds: to feed the subhumans who clean the toilets in the labs where the scientists and engineers are working on the Overman. Everything can be reduced to this. Every other conception of purpose is folly. Everything going the opposite way, e.g. environmentalism, artfaggotry, religions other than Overman worship, and so on, are threats to be suppressed, or better yet to be reinterpreted as opportunities for the Overman to challenge himself and exercise his powers. Only as intellectual exercises for the Overman are all these forms of decay justified, but once their workings have been fully grasped, as they will be by the time the present work is over, they are nothing but nuisances that serve no useful purpose and must be minimized or, if possible, completely eliminated.

We are all shaped by the content we absorb. Like a radio tuned into the station of life. When you select the best content, you absorb greatness

Good, you’re here—” her father rushed over to crouch in front of her “—milaya, what’s wrong?” Maybe if she shared the burden, she wouldn’t break for a while longer. This was what family was for, right? “Caleb went to Namino to try to find Marlee and rescue her.” Her father stood and took several steps back, toward the center of the small room. “I know.” “You…what?” “I know he’s gone to Namino.” Alex slowly stood, her limbs heavy and her soul burdened. “Dad, what have you done?

After the others had departed, Miriam gave David, Alex and Richard an honest, weary smile. “One hurdle cleared.” “You were perfect.” David reached over and squeezed her hands atop the table. “Kennedy said your new ship will be ready in a week or so. What are you going to call her?” “I hadn’t really considered it. The Stalwart II redux? Stalwart III, I suppose? If that isn’t getting too absurd.” David snorted. “ ‘Stalwart’ my ass. We might as well have called them ‘ships that blow up Solovys.’ I say it’s time for a new name.

Alex placed both hands on the counter and began reading the message, until the words blurred together. Started again…and buried her face in her hands. No, priyazn. But she should’ve realized. If she hadn’t been so distracted by grief and worry and hope about her mother’s fate, she would’ve seen what was staring her right in the face. A tree branch crashed against the side of the house, and she rushed upstairs to spread her hands, palms open, upon the wide glass wall spanning the front of the house, where she gazed outside with wiser eyes. Her heart broke into a thousand shards, for the second time in as many days. The storm? It was Caleb’s consciousness manifested in raw, primal form. “Oh, Akeso. He’s not dying, is he? He’s killing.

Don't get stuck on labels. Write, edit, publish and promote. You choose which you want to be. You can be an author, a writer, an indie or a bestselling novelist. Be a writer first and let the path you make lead to the goal you set.

Now I need to tell you all the information I desperately wanted to tell you last night at the party, but kept my mouth shut for Dad’s sake.” Miriam set her teacup on its coaster and folded her arms atop her desk to give Alex her full attention. “You went to NGC 55 and observed some Rasu.” “Some Rasu? Yes, I most definitely observed ‘some’ Rasu.” “And what did your observations tell you?” “That we should go back to Aurora.

My ideas come from the dark recesses of my mind, reaching out with tendrils of shadow, pulling me in and turning my world into a constantly shifting whirlwind of reality ranging from space exploration and alien worlds to teleporting cats, time travel and mind reading. You know, the usual places.

See you later, losers!” Alex shouted at the zombified piglins. “We will have to see them later,” said P1G0. “We’re going to have to come back this way when we return to the wedding.” “Oh,

See you later, losers!” Alex shouted at the zombified piglins. “We will have to see them later,” said P1G0. “We’re going to have to come back this way when we return to the wedding.” “Oh,” said Alex. “Er, sorry about calling you losers, guys. No hard feelings.

Which was interesting, seeing as he allowed very few people to know many truths at all about him. Special circumstances and all. Alex crashed onto her bed, relishing the sensual, almost carnal feel of her head sinking into the silky pillow. After several deep, luxurious breaths she glanced up, and promptly scowled. The viewport above the bed often revealed twinkling

A third principal states that the more intense the interaction between a student and its models, the more effective the training. Intensity - the extent to which tutors arouse a response in a student - is determined from direct observations of interactants (e.g., by recording emotional responses) or from indirect measures (e.g., blood pressure or hormone levels). One implication, supported by data reviewed in Pepperberg and Neapolitan, is that, for both humans and birds, intense interaction requires one or more tutors. Of course, increasing the intensity of the interaction may not always increase learning: overly nurturant models may inhibit learning by preventing a student from experimenting on his or her own and overly aggressive models may arouse fear or counter-aggression strong enough to block processing of any input.

Alex closed his eyes and listened: a storefront gate sliding down. A dog barking hoarsely. The lowing of trucks over bridges. The velvety night in his ears. And the hum, always that hum, whih maybe wasn't an echo after all, but the sound of time passing. th blu nyt the stRs u cant c th hum tht nevr gOs awy A sound of clicking heels on the pavement punctured the quiet. Alex snapped open his eyes, and he and Bennie both turned – whirled, really, peering for Sasha in the ashy dark. But it was another girl, young and new to the city, fiddling with her keys." (p. 336)

Do not allow doubt, fear or failure to affect your dreams. They are the slippery slopes you must ignore on the path to success.