Connor Unwind Quotes

[...] every time he forces himself to think before acting, it's her voice in his head telling him to slow down. He wants to tell her, but she's always so busy in the medical jet—and you don't just go to somebody and say, "I'm a better person because you're in my head.

Roland glares at Connor and Connor glares back. Then he says what he always says at moments like this. "Nice socks." Although Roland doesn't look down right away, it derails him just enough for him to back off. He doesn't check to see if his socks match until he thinks Connor isn't looking. And the moment he does, Connor snickers. Small victories are bet­ter than none.

Cowards hide [...] but warriors lie and wait [...] the only difference is whether you're motivated by fear or purpose.

Connor smiles with mocking warmth at him, and glances at the tattoo on his wrist. "I like your dolphin.

Fine," Connor tells him. "Think about stuff until your head explodes. But the only thing I want to think about is surviving to eighteen." I find your shallowness both refreshing and disappointing at the same time. Do you think that means I need therapy?

I was asking if unwinding kills you, or if it leaves you alive somehow. C'mon—it's not like we haven't thought about it." (...) What do you think, Connor?" asks Hayden. "What hap­pens to your soul when you get unwound?" Who says I even got one?" For the sake of argument, let's say you do." Who says I want an argument?

Small victories are bet­ter than none.

Hole..." He grips Risa's hand tighter. "Hole, Risa, hole..." And she smiles "Yes, Connor," she says. "You're whole. You're finally whole.

History is written by the victors--and when there is no victors, it all winds up in the corporate shredders.

Sometimes, Lev, I just want to smack you." "You already hit him with a car.

But this isn't a perfect world. The problem is people who think it is. -Connor

Most people have two emergency modes. But Connor always knew he had three: Fight, Flight, and Screw Up Royally. It was a dangerous mental circuit.

You don’t just go to somebody and say, ‘I’m a better person because you’re in my head.

Suddenly it was obvious to Connor why they don't teach it. Once education was restructured and corporatized, they didn't want kids knowing how close they came to toppling the government. They didn't want kids to know how much power they really had.

I don't know what happens to our consciousness when we're unwound," says Connor. "I don't even know when that consciousness starts. But I do know this." He pauses to make sure all of them are listening. "We have a right to our lives!" The kids go wild. "We have a right to choose what happens to our bodies!" The cheers reach fever pitch. "We deserve a world where both those things are possible— and it's our job to help make that world.

Talking about someone in the third person is rude." Cam tells her coolly. "Really?" Says Connor. "When you're a hundred people, wouldn't third person be a compliment?

What if . . . what if . . . "What if it's a harvest camp after all?" says Emby. Connor doesn't tell him to shut up this time, because he's thinking the same thing. It's Diego who answers him. "If it is, then I want my fin gers to go to a sculptor. So he can use them to craft something that will last forever." They all think about that. Hayden is the next to speak. "If I'm unwound," says Hayden, "I want my eyes to go to a photographer — one who shoots supermodels. That's what I want these eyes to see." "My lips'll go to a rock star," says Connor. "These legs are definitely going to the Olympics." "My ears to an orchestra conductor." "My stomach to a food critic." "My biceps to a body builder." "I wouldn't wish my sinuses on anybody." And they're all laughing as the plane touches down.

How much do you know about the Heartland War?' Connor shrugs. 'It was the last chapter in our history textbook, but we had state testing, so we never got to it.

He will only do the wrong thing when it's the right thing to do..

So tell us," says Connor, "in The World According to Hayden, when do we start to live?" A long silence from Hayden, and then he says quietly, uneasily, "I don't know." Emby razzes him. "That's not an answer." But Connor reaches out and grabs Emby's arm, to shut him up- because Emby's wrong. Even though Connor can't see Hayden's face, he can hear the truth of it in his voice. There was no hint of evasion in Hayden's words. This was raw honesty, void of Hayden's usual flip attitude. It was perhaps the first truly honest thing Connor had ever heard him say. "Yes, it is an answer," Connor says. "Maybe it's the best answer of all. If more people could admit they really don't know, maybe there never would have been a Heartland War.

Love the ponytail," Connor says, pointing at his hair. Lev shrugs. "It's just because my hair is so tatted. But maybe I'll keep it." "Don't," Connor tells him. "I lied. I hate it.

So Connor stands there with secret anticipation each time there's a group of new arrivals, hoping beyond hope he'll find that self-righteous, self-important, pain-in-the-ass Lev still alive.

Wars have a way reinventing people. And making too many things disappear. -Sonia

I know this is your hand now,' she tells him. "Roland would have never touched me like that." Connor smiles, and Risa takes a moment to look down at the shark on his wrist. It holds no fear for her now, because the shark has been tamed by the soul of a boy. No- the soul of a man.

And so, as the mob backs away to give them space... as the riot police holster their weapons, standing down, and as Risa takes the podium, calming the crowd with a voice as soothing as a sonata, Connor Lassiter holds his family like he'll never let them go.

No one ever answered my question," Hayden says. "Looks like no one has the guts" "Which one?" Asks Connor. " You've got questions coming out of you like farts on Thanksgiving.

Lev bends down and takes the tranq gun away from the cop Connor has just rendered unconscious. "I came to save you." "That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard!

Connor tries to hold her arm to give her support, but she shakes him off and throws him a nasty gaze. "If I want your help, I'll ask. Do I look feeble to you?" "Actually, yes." "Looks are deceiving." she says. " After all, when I saw you, I thought you looked reasonably intelligent." "Very funny.

He (Connor) will only do the wrong thing when it's the right thing to do. - Risa

When your parents turn you in to the Juvenile Authority - and they will - I will not shed a single tear for you, Connor Lassiter.

It's always the lesser of two evils.' 'I don't see why there have to be any evils at all.' -Connor

Ooh, I like this one!" Connor says. "'Diminished prospects for future.' Sounds like a stock report!

Connor bangs his head back sharply against the wall, hoping to jar loose the bad thoughts clinging to his brain. This is not a good place to be alone with your thoughts. Perhaps that's why Hayden feels compelled to talk.

How do you fill it?’ Connor asks. 'How do you fill the … the space?’ And to Cam’s own amazement, he has an answer. 'Bit by bit,’ he says, 'and not alone.

I was actually being sincere,” Connor admits. “But I’m happy to insult you, if that’s what you want.

We tried to be good parents . . . but there’s a point at which you give up trying.” “No, there’s not,” Connor tells her. Then he turns to go, leaving them with the worst punishment of all: having to live with themselves.

Connor smiles, and Risa takes a moment to look down at the shark on his wrist. It holds no fear for her now, because the shark has been tamed by the soul of a boy. No - the soul of a man.

I never met the boy, or his parents, but I see kids like him every day.” Sonia tells Connor. “Their world is shattered, and they’re so desperate for validation that they’d blow themselves up to get it. Any parent who disowns that boy after what he did, and didn’t do . . . doesn’t deserve to have children at all, much less a child to give away.

I'm a savant when it comes to character judgment," he tells her. "For instance, most people wouldn't see anything in you besides attitude and a need for stronger deodorant, but I think you can handle the storks almost as well as Connor handled the Graveyard." Bam gives him a halfhearted glare. "Can you ever give a compliment without also making it an insult?" "No," he admits. "Not possible. It's the essence of my charm.

Even though Connor can't see Hayden's face, he can hear the truth of it in his voice. There was no hint of evasion in Hayden's words. This was raw-honesty, void of Hayden's usual flip attitude. It was perhaps the first truly honest thing Connor had ever heard him say. "Yes, it is an answer," Connor says. "Maybe it's the best answer of all. If more people could admit they really don't know, maybe there never would have been a Heartland War.

That's right, pick on Emby," says Connor. "Show everyone just how low you are.

Chain of command knows no age restrictions," he once told Connor. "You could be six, but if you were my superior, I'd still do as I was told.

It's funny how a flame can only burn your hand if you move too slow," Hayden says. "You can tease it all you want and it never gets you, if you're quick enough." "Are you a pyro?" Connor asks. "You're confusing boredom with obsession.

Connor’s arms are still wrapped around the guy’s ankles, and he finds there’s only one thing he can say under the circumstances. “Nice socks.

That’s why people call him Humphrey,” Connor adds. “ ’Cause ‘all the king’s horses and all the king’s men… couldn’t put Humphrey together again.’ 

How can you walk away,” Connor finally says, “when they’re about to overthrow the Cap-17 law?

In a perfect world, everything would either be black or white, right or wrong and everyone would know the difference. But this isn't a perfect world. The problem is people who think it is.

Mira a Connor, que no parece preocuparse por dónde se sienta. No lo parece. Esa es la palabra clave con Connor. Se le da extremadamente bien ocultar lo que pasa en ese espacio desconcertante que va de una oreja suya a la otra.

Tell me, Connor, is this the first time you've been pregnant?' 'What?' 'Just answer the question, yes or no.' 'Yes. I mean no! Shut up! What kind of stupid-ass question is that?' Cam smiles. 'You see? You're damned no matter how you answer. By playing both sides, Proactive Citizenry keeps people focused on choosing between two different kinds of unwinding, making people forget that the real question...' 'Is whether or not someone should be unwound at all.

Suddenly it was obvious to Connor why they don’t teach it. Once education was restructured and corporatized, they didn’t want kids knowing how close they came to toppling the government. They didn’t want kids to know how much power they really had.

For Connor it’s not about stupidity, or even rebellion—it’s about feeling life. Sitting on this ledge, hidden behind an exit sign is where he feels most comfortable. Sure, one false step and he’s roadkill. Yet for Connor, life on the edge is home.

Connor shrugs and obliges. “Nice socks,” he says with a satisfied smile. Divan never breaks eye contact. “Indeed they are. Cervelt. New Zealand deer fiber, a bargain at a thousand dollars a pair.” He returns Connor’s smile, leaving Connor feeling far less satisfied.

What about supplies and stuff we can’t scavenge from other planes?” asks John, his leg bouncing more fiercely than usual. “If we can’t get cash from the front office to buy it, we’ll have to creatively find it.” Creatively finding is Connor’s euphemism for stealing.

The kinkajou—a literal monkey on his back—now peers out from behind Lev with wide innocent eyes, but clings with claws that can kill. It reminds Connor that as much as Lev has changed, he’ll always carry the wide-eyed tithe somewhere within him. As well as the clapper.

You're not actually falling for him, are you?" he asks her one day, on one of the rare occasions he can get her alone. "I'll pretend you didn't just ask that," she tells him in disgust. But Connor has reasons to wonder. "On that first night here, he offered you his blanket, and you accepted it," he points out. "Only because I knew it would make him cold." "And when he offers you his food, you take it." "Because it means he goes hungry." It's coolly logical. Connor finds it amazing that she can put her emotions aside and be as calculating as Roland, beating him at his own game. Another reason for Connor to admire her.

I stand behind my decision. You see yourself as failing- but that's not what I see. Sure, when you're in the midst of your own suffering, it's easy to convince yourself that you're no good- but we are all tested in this life, Connor. The measure of a man is not how much he suffers in the test, but how he comes out at the end.

„,Er hat das […] gegründet, um die Welt vor seiner Erfindung zu schützen!’ ,Und daraus ist genau das Monster entstanden, vor dem er sich gefürchtet hatte.’ Connor erinnert sich an etwas, das er in der Schule gelernt hat. Oppenheimer – der Mann, der die erste Atombombe gebaut hat – wurde am Ende ihr größter Gegner. Und wenn es bei Rheinschild genauso war?

Er hat das Proaktive Bürgerforum gegründet, um die Welt vor seiner Erfindung zu schützen!“ „Und daraus ist genau das Monster entstanden, vor dem er sich gefürchtet hatte.“ Connor erinnert sich an etwas, das er in der Schule gelernt hat. Oppenheimer – der Mann, der die erste Atombombe gebaut hat – wurde am Ende ihr größter Gegner. Und wenn es bei Rheinschild genauso war?

„Er hat das Proaktive Bürgerforum gegründet, um die Welt vor seiner Erfindung zu schützen!“ „Und daraus ist genau das Monster entstanden, vor dem er sich gefürchtet hatte.“ Connor erinnert sich an etwas, das er in der Schule gelernt hat. Oppenheimer – der Mann, der die erste Atombombe gebaut hat – wurde am Ende ihr größter Gegner. Und wenn es bei Rheinschild genauso war?

Heilige Sch*iße! Er hat das Proaktive Bürgerforum gegründet, um die Welt vor seiner Erfindung zu schützen!“ „Und daraus ist genau das Monster entstanden, vor dem er sich gefürchtet hatte.“ Connor erinnert sich an etwas, das er in der Schule gelernt hat. Oppenheimer – der Mann, der die erste Atombombe gebaut hat – wurde am Ende ihr größter Gegner. Und wenn es bei Rheinschild genauso war?

Hayden passes his hand back and forth over the flame. He doesn't move slowly enough to burn himself, but he does move slowly enough to feel the heat. Hayden notices Connor watching him. “It's funny how a flame can only burn your hand if you move too slow,” Hayden says. “You can tease it all you want and it never gets you, if you're quick enough.” “Are you a pyro?” Connor asks. “You're confusing boredom with obsession.

What bothers her most is that she cares. Risa was always able to take care of herself, both physically and emotionally. At the state home, either you developed several layers of personal armor or you were eaten alive. When had that changed? Was it when she was forced to play music as kids were led into the building beneath her to be unwound? Was it when she made the choice to accept a shattered spine, rather than having it replaced by the healthy spine of an Unwind? Or maybe it was before that, when she realized that, against all sense and reason, she had fallen in love with Connor Lassiter?

He knows it won't always be like this. It will get better each day. Maybe not easier but better… and yet he senses that the mere act of having been unwound has taken something from him. No matter how much he heals, he'll always have a deep and abiding war wound. Now he knows what Cam must feel. Not so much an emptiness, but a gap between what was and what is, like air trapped between the seams of his soul. He tries to express it to Risa, but the only word that comes is— "Hole…" He grips Risa’s hand tighter. "Hole, Risa, hole…" And she smiles. "Yes, Connor," she says. "You’re whole. You’re finally whole.

Perhaps it’s just because he’s an outsider, but to Connor, the Arápache live a life of contradiction. Their homes are austere and yet punctuated by pointed opulence. A plush bed in an undecorated room. A simple wood-burning fire pit in the great room that’s not so simple because logs are fed and temperature maintained by an automatic system so that it never goes out. With one hand they rebuke creature comforts, but with the other they embrace it—as if they are in a never-ending battle between spiritualism and materialism. It must have been going on so long, they seem blind to their own ambivalence, as if it’s just become a part of their culture.

She suffers a week of food brought in by a silent guard in a rent-a-cop uniform. She knows she’s no longer in the hands of the Juvenile Authority, but who her new captors are is a mystery. These new jailers ask no questions, and that concerns her the same way that Connor is always concerned by the fact that the Graveyard has never been taken out. Are they so unimportant in the grand scheme of things that the Juvenile Authority won’t even torture her to get the information they want? Have they been deluding themselves into thinking they’re making a difference? All this time she’s forced out thoughts of Connor, because it simply hurt too much to think about him. How horrified he must have been when she turned herself in. Horrified and stunned. Well, fine, let him be; he’ll get over it. She did it for him just as much as she did it for the injured boy, because as painful as it is to admit, Risa knows she had become just a distraction to Connor. If he’s truly going to lead those kids in the Graveyard like the Admiral did, he can’t be giving Risa leg massages and worrying whether her emotional needs are being met. Maybe he does love her, but it’s obvious there’s no room in his life at this moment to pay it any more than lip service.