Crossover Book Quotes

Bullies don't like to fight, son. They like to win. Being afraid is normal. The only fight you really have to win is the one against the fear.

The poems were cool. The best ones were like bombs, and when all the right words came together it was like an explosion.

I think being an adult must be confusing as hell.

Books are fun, Nicholas, he says, they're like amusement parks for readers. Yeah, well, maybe they would be fun if I got to pick the rides sometimes, you answer

It does not take a math genius to understand that when you subtract a mother from the equation what remains is negative.

putyourFACEinaBOOK

It's just hard to love someone who cancels the cable right before the Walking Dead marathon.

you don’t let us out, I’m going to pound you!

Bullies don’t like to fight, son. They like to win. Being afraid is normal. The only fight you really have to win is the one against the fear.

Daddy and I left the End this morning. He is meeting with some of the leaders in Capitol City and he said I could come with him. But, the meetings were boring, so I thought I’d come see you guys.” “You mean, make fun of me, don’t you?” Jimmy said bitterly, crossing his arms in front of his chest and pouting. Princes Tina giggled. “It’s just so easy to do that.

Most importantly, they’re delicious,” Carl said. “I bet you’ve never had one the way I can make it: with sour cream and chives.” Mom winked at him. Carl snorted. “The best filling for a baked potato is a second baked potato, but I’m willing to give this ‘skewer cream’ thing a try. Potatoes are awesome no matter how you have them.

That’s right,” said Dave. “In fact, our friends are just about to spring an ambush on you. You’d best hand over that Staff.

Nine years ago, my sister handed me a paperback she had picked up in an airport shop on her way to India. It was a gloomy-looking book, with a black an white photo of a steam train approaching through fog on the cover. Cutting across the top of the photo was . . . an author's name I did not know: J.K. Rowling. I began to read the novel and by page three, I was hooked.

What’s your theme for my dimension?” ask Dave, his voice trembling. “I haven’t quite decided,” said the Glitch Queen. “It’s down to either ‘invasion of the clowns’ or ‘visit to the dentist’.” “You monster!” gasped Dave.

I am grateful that their unyielding passion is completely allowed to flow through their delicate fingers and wrists onto their lovely instruments, sharing this on a level which is beyond words, resonating with one's deepest soul.

Baked potatoes,” said Carl. “Baked potatoes, baked potatoes, baked potatoes, baked potatoes, baked potatoes, baked potatoes, baked potatoes, baked potatoes, baked potatoes, baked potatoes, baked potatoes, baked potatoes, baked potatoes, baked potatoes, baked potatoes, baked potatoes, baked potatoes.

They were readers for whom literature was a drug, each complex plot line delivering a new high, suspending them above reality, allowing them a magical crossover...They had spoken often, with rueful honesty, of how the books they read represented escape, offered pathways to literary landscapes that intrigued and engrossed...From childhood on, books had been the hot air balloons that carried them above the angry mutterings of quarreling parents, schoolyard rejections, academic boredom...They were of a kind, readers from birth.

Do they even have soccer in Kentucky?

Sorry, this is a sword fight, not an emo contest.” Jack landed another hit, flashing Trenchcoat red again.

baked potatoes, baked potatoes, baked potatoes, baked potatoes, baked potatoes.

The heat from the summer sun made Jimmy

Like when Peter Parker didn’t go to the science fair, so Gwen Stacy did and she was bit by the radioactive spider and became Spider-Gwen.

This is going to be fun.” He grinned.

Are you all right, Alex?” Dave asked. “I’ve just been thinking,” said Alex. “Do you think if a cow and a bee had a baby, you could get honey-flavored milk?” Spidroth rolled her eyes. “I’m surrounded by morons.

Are you all right, Alex?” Dave asked. “I’ve just been thinking,” said Alex. “Do you think if a cow and a bee had a baby, you could get honey-flavored milk?” Spidroth rolled her eyes. “I’m surrounded by morons.” “I think it’s a good question, Alex,” said Carl. “Maybe I could breed a baked potato with a cow and get baked potato flavored milk.

ever thought of this before.” “No one’s ever thought of it before because it’s completely stupid,” snapped Spidroth. “You have the mind of an infant!” “Thank you, Lady Spidroth.

Baked potatoes,” said Carl. “Baked potatoes, baked potatoes, baked potatoes, baked potatoes, baked potatoes, baked potatoes, baked potatoes, baked potatoes, baked potatoes, baked potatoes, baked potatoes, baked potatoes,

I thought we were dead for sure,” said Biff. “I’ve had to spend the last couple of hours listening to Spidroth rant and rave about how stupid and foolish everyone is. It’s been horrible.” “Shut up you, fool.

Good gravy,” gasped Porkins, “it’s not a pig; it’s a creeper-pig!” “A creepig?” suggested Carl.

It was bright white, a liquid dripping off of it.

hit her square in the chest, breaking open and covering the front of her shirt with milk.

Everyone knows that creepers are cooler than endermen. That’s just a fact.

Baked potatoes,” said Carl. “Baked potatoes, baked potatoes, baked potatoes, baked potatoes, baked potatoes, baked potatoes, baked potatoes, baked potatoes, baked potatoes, baked potatoes, baked potatoes, baked potatoes, baked potatoes,

Can you two stop arguing for one minute?” said Dave. “We need to work out where we are.” “We’re in a cave,” said Carl. “I thought that was obvious.

when he heard a noise coming from deeper in the cave. It was a slurping noise: SLOORP, SLOORP, SLOORP.

Whatever this place is, I hate it,” said Carl.

again.

Diary of a Surfer Villager, he had become a best-selling author and a worldwide celebrity. He was glad to have survived the trials of his youth, and, he had to admit, being famous was pretty cool, but all he ever wanted to be was a surfer. Jimmy breathed a melancholic sigh and turned away from the shore and looked back at the water. The redstone-powered wave machine invented by his friend Emma had just pushed another wave towards him and the handful of other surfers waiting for it. It looked like a good

Why is something always coming to get us?” sighed Carl. “No one’s ever chasing us to give us a hug or to give us free baked potatoes. For once in my life, I’d like to see fewer killer monsters and more baked potatoes. Is that too much to ask?” Chapter 4 Jimmy startled awake.

Why is something always coming to get us?” sighed Carl. “No one’s ever chasing us to give us a hug or to give us free baked potatoes. For once in my life, I’d like to see fewer killer monsters and more baked potatoes. Is that too much to ask?” Chapter 4 Jimmy startled awake. At first, he drifted in a dream fog, but then he began to recall the details of his peculiar dream and the strange magical old man who had appeared in it. As his dream fog continued to clear, he realized he was no longer on the beach at the Surf ‘n Snack. He lurched up to a sitting position. He was sitting on a bed in a small room with no windows and only a single door. The walls of the room were made out of wood blocks,

It’ll be a bit unfair if she does explode,” said Carl the creeper. “Most of my life, I tried to explode and could never manage it. If only I’d known the secret — all you have to do is eat loads and loads of cake.

THE CROSSOVER: A SHORT STORY OF TWIN BROTHERS IN SEPARATE WORLDS   By:  Rhonda Mc Alister                       Edited by Fran Briggs ©Copyright 2010

Holding this secret is killing me.  I don’t know how it happened.  I let a simple attraction go way too far.  It happened one night after work.  This guy I had been seeing on campus approached me.  I’m not going to lie, the brother was fine.  I never should have gone out with him.  How do men know when women are vulnerable?  Is there a scent that we let off?

If selling books is what it’s all about, then I suggest that writing crossover books, those which speak to most readers, religious or not, will have a far greater impact in the long run, and a well-written piece of crossover will brand an author as a serious writer moreso than a limited-audience piece of specific religious material, a fiction “tract” – for that’s what it often is in its essence. I think the larger question is: do we want to write or do we want to evangelize? I contend that if we write well for the masses, as Christians we’ll evangelize by default.

went to this house of worship on Rosh Hashannah, the Jewish New Year. It was a most moving experience. Since few Czech Jews had survived, the crowd was made up of remnants from the survivors of different Jewish communities. The books, the torahs, the cemetery - everything, at that time, was in complete disarray. It was the most moving experience that I ever had in a synagogue. I also saw and admired the square where Huss was burnt on the stake. He was the Czech reformer, who wanted to translate the Bible into the national language and was burnt to death by the prevailing Catholics, who judged him as a heretic. The old, historic town fascinated me no end. The medieval houses, with fortresslike portals, the waterwell in the courtyards, the crossover walks from one side of the street to the other, at the third or fourth floor level for escape, in case of attack; the walls around the area. It all brought the history of the city alive; it brought the Middle Ages alive.

those of you who are new to my books, there is a suggested series reading order and crossover chart (these can also be found on my website) at the end of this novella that will help you determine where to start if you end up enjoying Cruz and Elliot’s story. I’ve also

Kennon Smith in their delineating of critical issues in education through the studio. Central to their investigation is a connection with other fields of design and bringing common essential characteristics to the field of instructional design. Design and narrative meet in two chapters. In the first, Katherine Cennamo relates her experiences in pairing two design forms in a multidisciplinary design studio. Not all design work is alike and different cultures exist in different disciplines. At the same time, there are lessons to be learned through this innovative studio environment. Subsequently, Wayne Nelson and David Palumbo present the crossover of an interactive design firm to engagement with instructional design. Blending processes and ideas from product design and user-experience design informs their work, beginning from their entertainment-oriented experience and moving toward an educational product. How people design—whether they are instructional designers, architects, or end users—is a valuable base for practice and education. Chapters by Lisa Yamagata-Lynch and Craig Howard examine the design process using different methods of inquiry, but both help us in our quest for understanding. While Yamagata-Lynch uses Cultural Historical Activity Theory to examine design from an end-user point of view, Howard builds on an extensive use of the case study method to examine our own practices of instructional design. As we have seen in these chapters, instructional design is a diverse field and, while the specific subject matter is important, it is but one component of education. Wayne Nelson outlines the possible scope of research and practice and finds ways to integrate the field beyond traditional educational research. The qualitative and subjective aspects of instructional design must also be addressed. The specific elements of message design, judgment, and ethics are presented in chapters by M.J. Bishop, Nilufer Korkmaz and Elizabeth Boling, and Stephanie Moore. Each is critical in a holistic understanding of the field of instructional design, touching on such questions as how we convey meaning and information, our judgment of quality in our work, and our responsibilities as designers. We began the symposium with the idea of the value of design thinking, and Gordon Rowland, in his chapter, presents a method for improving the use of design in learning and thinking. Design is “a unique and essential form of inquiry,” and Rowland’s method can advance the use of design as a full-fledged educational component. Examining design and education encourages us to address larger, more systemic issues. Marcia Ashbaugh and Anthony Piña examine leadership thinking and how it could infuse and direct instructional design. How to improve the practice of design inquiry extends to the full field of education and to leadership in higher education. Paul Zenke’s chapter examines the role of university leadership as designers. Challenges abound in the modern age for higher education, and the application of design thinking and transformation is sorely needed. Our story, the chapters of this book, began with detailed views of the work of instructional design

After we win this whole tournament, I’m gonna give that guy a piece of my mind.” “Don’t do it, Jimmy,” Tina said. “You won’t have much mind left.

Bruh.

Before anyone else could say anything, a loud “Meow!” was heard out of the dark sky. Everyone’s head whipped up to watch as Bruce swooped through the air, his elytra wings reflecting the firelight. His claws were out and he speared the potato, zipping off into the air again. Carl sat there, blinking at his empty hands. And then he freaked out. “AHHHH! Why is that cat flying? What kind of idiot would give a cat wings?” Spidroth laughed. “I like that cat.

My mind is precise,” said Alex, crossing her arms. “As precise as a potato.

Uggggh …” groaned Alex, clutching her stomach. She had one more cake left in her pile, but her opponent had one more cake in his pile as well, and he’d already started to eat it. Alex’s eyes were rolling into the back of her head, and her skin was even paler than usual. “Alex, you can give up if you want to,” said Dave. “Don’t make yourself sick.” “Yes, we won’t think any less of you, dear girl,” said Porkins. “I’ll think less of you,” said Carl. “Carl!” said Dave. “What?” said Carl, shrugging. “I’m only being honest.” The elderly cowman was halfway through his last cake, and Alex hadn’t even started hers. It’s all over, thought Dave. There’s no way that Alex can catch up. Alex looked like she was going to pass out at any moment, but then, finding strength from somewhere, she picked up her final cake and opened her mouth wide. FLOOOONCH!!!!!! To Dave’s amazement, Alex shoved the entire cake into her mouth. Her cheeks were so stuffed full of cake that her head was about twice as wide as it usually was. Then, with a large gulp, she swallowed the cake down whole. She opened her mouth to show everyone that the cake was gone. “We have a winner!” The cowman hosting the competition shouted. Everyone in the inn let out an enormous cheer. The elderly cowman dropped the remainder of his cake on the table, admitting defeat. “Well done, dear girl!” Porkins said to Alex. “Yeah, well done, Alex,” said Carl. “If ever I need someone to eat a big pile of cakes, you’ll be the first person I ask.” “I still think this whole competition was completely foolish,” said Spidroth. “Nevertheless, Alex, I congratulate you on your victory. Like a true warrior, you bested all your opponents, showing them no mercy.” “Uggghh …” groaned Alex. Then she fainted, her face hitting the table. “Alex!” yelled Dave, rushing over to her. “Is anyone here a healer?” “I am,” said a cowman with grey fur, rushing over. “What’s wrong with her, Doctor?” asked Porkins. “My diagnosis is that she’s eaten too many cakes,” said the cowman healer, lifting Alex’s head. “I could have told you that,” said Carl, rolling his eyes. “What should we do with her?” asked Dave. “I think a good night’s rest should do the trick,” said the healer. “Are you sure you’re a healer?” said Carl. “None of this advice seems very professional.

Dave, Spidroth, Porkins, Alex and Carl,” said the rabbit. “I need your help. I have a mission of great importance for you.” “Hey, how come it’s ‘Dave, Spidroth, Porkins, Alex and Carl’?” said Carl. “Why’s my name last?

Green fire,” said Spidroth thoughtfully, walking up to one of the torches for a closer look. “I’ve never seen such a thing in all my years.” “And those are a lot of years,” said Carl. “You are ridiculously old.” “Quiet, creeper,” said Spidroth. “Any more of your insolence and I shall have out your tongue.

I’d like to see fewer killer monsters and more baked potatoes. Is that too much to ask?

You want me to be the leader?” asked Jimmy. “I mean I assumed you would, but I forgot to ask.” “You can be the leader until you make a stupid decision,” said Tina.

The zombies stepped into the green glow of the torches. As Carl had predicted, the zombies were weird, but they didn’t have ghasts for heads: they had potatoes. Baked potatoes. “No,” gasped Carl, as he caught sight of the potato-head zombies. “No, no, no, no, no!” For as long as Dave had known him, Carl’s favorite food had always been baked potatoes, and now he was facing an army of zombies with giant potatoes instead of heads. They didn’t even have eyes or mouths, just huge baked potatoes on the top of their normal zombie bodies. “Let’s give these potatoes a good mashing!” said Jimmy. “NO!” shouted Carl. Everyone looked at him. “We … we can’t hurt them,” said Carl. “They’re potatoes!” “So?” said Emma. “Potatoes!” said Carl. “Don’t you understand? Potatoes!

Halt,” she said, holding out her hand towards the potato zombies. The zombies immediately came to a stop. “Please follow me,” she said. “My home is this way.” “We’re not going anywhere unless you tell us what’s going on,” said Carl. “My home is a baked potato,” said the old woman. “Lead the way,” said Carl.

A few minutes later, the old woman had led the fated eight from the cave and across a small meadow of purple grass and orange flowers. When they walked around a large boulder, her house came into view: it was a gigantic baked potato with a door and windows. Carl gasped and rushed toward the house. He fell to his knees and raised his arms to heaven in silent praise. Then, he leaned forward and began to eat the wall of the house. “You actually do live inside of a baked potato!” said Porkins. “How fun!” “Stop eating my house,” shouted the old lady, giving Carl a quick swat with her wooden stick. Carl backed away from the house. “When we get back to our world, I’m making myself a baked potato house no matter what.” “You’d be homeless in a week or less, old bean,” said Porkins. “You’d give new meaning to the expression to eat yourself out of house and home.

The old lady nodded sadly. “I’m afraid that’s what will happen. Based upon my studies of the Glitch Queen’s conquest of various worlds of the multiverse, she will be coming after your worlds within the next month. But if you can get the Staff of Dominion away from her, she will lose her power. At least, that’s what I hope will happen.” “Is that all?” said Carl. “It sounds like a lot to me,” said Biff, his voice quavering. “I was being sarcastic,” said Carl. “Oh.

Aim for the wings this time,” said Porkins. “These blighters won’t be able to fly without their wings.” “Can you all stop giving orders?” snapped Jimmy. “It’s getting old real fast.” “Do you have a better idea, old bean?” asked Porkins. “Um, actually, no,” said Jimmy. “Let’s aim for the wings.

Yeah, that sounds pretty dumb,” said Carl. “You sound pretty dumb,” said Jimmy. “Your face sounds pretty dumb,” said Carl.

And what’s up with that smurfing thing he was talking about?” “I think it was surfing,” said Porkins.

they came across three creatures so hideous, that Jimmy retched, Emma gagged, Biff began to cry like a baby, and Tina began to teleport at random.

I want you to teleport us all up there, and we can attack the monster together.” “You mean hit it with our swords until it dies?” asked Jimmy. “Precisely,” said Dave. Jimmy grinned. “I like it, brah,” he said.

The Glitch Queen laughed again. “That is just a small sample of the power of the Staff of Dominion. Kneel before me!” “Um, we’re paralyzed,” said Carl.

Ow,” my head, groaned Biff.

he is no longer with us. He truly was a great kitty and he truly did fart a lot. Now

Block has been writing unofficial Minecraft-inspired fanfiction since 2015 and is the author of over 100 books and collections. His most popular books are the Diary of a Surfer Villager (where Jimmy and his friends go on adventures), the Ballad of Winston the Wandering Trader, and Baby Zeke: Diary of a Chicken Jockey. When he’s not writing books or playing video games, Dr. Block likes to spend his time surfing near his house, gardening in his backyard, and spending time with his wife and two teenage children. Although Dr. Block is not

Not really.” “Too bad! I am going to tell you anyway. My theme for your dimension, Jimmy, is cookies with sprinkles.

Listen, old man. Get lost. I don’t know how all you weirdos get into my dreams, but I’ve had enough.

Are you gonna do a crossover with Dave the villager?

Baked potatoes, baked potatoes, baked potatoes, baked potatoes, baked potatoes, baked potatoes, baked potatoes, baked potatoes, baked potatoes, baked potatoes, baked potatoes, baked potatoes, baked potatoes, baked potatoes, baked potatoes, baked potatoes, baked potatoes

her mouth with a spoon. “You started it. Remember?

command block. The block was blood-red, with square metal panels on each side covered

multiverse.

Well, we might find out,” said Carl. “Anyway, Alex can respawn, so if she dies, she’ll just come back to life and eat more cake. If I could respawn, all I’d do all day is eat baked potatoes until I exploded. What a life that would be.

All

Now you must create a world of your own, the command block whispered. A world where you can bring your champions.

gas,

rainbow,

Oh yes, the command block replied. It’s going to be very fun indeed.

Huh?

book.

Whaaaaat?

Jack who scowled at her.

The cat had earned his name from the white stripe that went from his nose all the way up to his forehead and looked like a scar. He was also a talented ninja and he often stank. Badly.

Or at least he thought he was. The two of them, along with their parents and pet cat, Bruce Lee the Scar-Faced Ninja Attack Kitty from Japan (Who Smells like Poop), woke up one day in Minecraft after going to bed in their own world. They had no idea how it happened, and they were working

tirelessly to figure out

how to get back.

out

Jimmy put his hands into his armpits so that his arms bent at a tight angle, giving them the appearance of wings. He then began to flap his arms up and down as though he were a chicken. “Cluck. I’m the Glitch Queen. Cluck. I’m so smart. Cluck. I think killing people is an art project. Cluck. I’m so stupid I can’t do anything without my lame wooden stick. Cluck --

After I put it on, I’ll come back here and pound some sense into these phantoms.

you

shoot it down!

Jimmy stomped his foot. “You are going to make us fight some horrible monster or something, right? Why does this always happen to me?” “Why does it always happen to you when I’m around?” whined Biff.

I used to have a golem suit with blaster cannons,” said Carl. “I wish I had it now. Although I wouldn’t be shooting the polar bears — I’d be blasting you in the face.

My friends here are Biff, Tina and Jimmy,” said Emma, pointing to each of them in turn. “We were brought to this place against our will.” “So were we,” said Dave. “Oh, and this is Carl the creeper, Porkins the pigman and Spidroth the … Spidroth.

Eat, eat, eat!” the crowd chanted. Alex shoveled another cake into her mouth, globs of icing dripping down her chin and bits of sponge falling down the front of her shirt. “The fool is going to explode if she eats any more cake,” said Spidroth. “This whole competition is a waste of time.

Uggggh …” groaned Alex, clutching her stomach. She had one more cake left in her pile, but her opponent had one more cake in his pile as well, and he’d already started to eat it. Alex’s eyes were rolling into the back of her head, and her skin was even paler than usual. “Alex, you can give up if you want to,” said Dave. “Don’t make yourself sick.