Darren Woods Quotes

Izzi: Remember Moses Morales? Tom Verde: Who? Izzi: The Mayan guide I told you about. Tom Verde: From your trip. Izzi: Yeah. The last night I was with him, he told me about his father, who had died. Well Moses wouldn't believe it. Tom Verde: Izzi... Izzi: [embraces Tom] No, no. Listen, listen. He said that if they dug his father's body up, it would be gone. They planted a seed over his grave. The seed became a tree. Moses said his father became a part of that tree. He grew into the wood, into the bloom. And when a sparrow ate the tree's fruit, his father flew with the birds. He said... death was his father's road to awe. That's what he called it. The road to awe. Now, I've been trying to write the last chapter and I haven't been able to get that out of my head! Tom Verde: Why are you telling me this? Izzi: I'm not afraid anymore, Tommy.

Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie recalls that the stories she wrote as a seven year old in Nigeria were based on the kinds of stories she read, featuring characters who were white and blue eyed, they played in the snow, the ate apples. According to Adichie, this wasn´t just about experimentation or an active imagination, because all I had read were books in which characters were foreign, I had become convinced that books by their very nature had to have foreigners in them and had to be about things with which I could not personally identify. We learn so many things from reading stories, including the conventions of stories such as good versus evil, confronting our fears and that danger often lurks in the woods. The problem is that, when one of these conventions is that children in stories are white, english and middle class, than you may come to learn that your own life does not qualify as subject material. Adichie describes this as "The danger of a single story" a danger that extends to stories which, whilst appearing to be diverse, rely on stereotypes and thus limit the imagination

Still keeping a tight grip on my neck, Darren dragged me back into the woods, and I knew instantly he was taking me past the perimeter. I fought and kicked against him, but I had already tired myself out from the chase. Once I felt the sharp tick at the back of my head, I could tell Darren had felt it, too, and then he threw me as hard as he could into the woods, and I stumbled and rolled on the ground. I knew I only had about five seconds, and Darren wasn’t going to let me back into the safe zone. I stayed low on the ground, knowing once the volts hit me I was going to crash. Better to already be low than to fall from standing up. And then I felt it. The sharp current cut through my veins like shards of glass, and I screamed in total agony as it felt like my body was being ripped apart. I writhed in pain, thinking that my head was going to split open as my muscles and limbs convulsed under the current. It was, without a doubt, the most painful thing I had ever experienced, and my body quickly shut down, needing only a few seconds to welcome the numb blackness that claimed me.

Cooper didn't look away. His blue eyes pierced through the tendrils of his hair like a wolf in the woods. He held Peter's gaze. He didn't smile, but Peter saw one all the same. He didn't speak and yet they were speaking now as if for the first time. There was friendship waiting to come in from the cold. But it was more than that. There was closeness. Unbound possibility.

Darren played with the ice cream before raising a spoonful to his mouth. I watched him lick it before he wrapped his lips around the spoon, closing his eyelids and savoring the flavor on his tongue. He slowly withdrew the spoon from his mouth and opened his eyes. He smiled coyly at my rapt attention. I just wanted to reach across the table, grab a fistful of his hair and lick the ice cream right out of his mouth.

Are you engineering my bondage setup?” Maddy asked, incredulous, before she burst into delighted giggles. “Oh, dove. I’ve had men say a lot of things in this room, but never that and never quite like that. You’re Bill Nye–ing my sex rig.” Darren jerked up his head, his eyes wide. “I work in construction! Wood’s my thing!” “Well, it’s my thing, too, but I’m not sure we’re having the same conversation anymore.

I stopped right in front of him, personal space be damned, and asked, “Can we do this again?” He flashed me his gorgeous smile, dimples and all. “Yeah... I’d like that.” I smiled right back. I turned and pulled open the door, holding it for him. We stepped outside, stopping on the sidewalk. I pulled out my cell and handed it to him. Darren took it, punched in his number and when his cell rang, he pulled his phone out. “Now I’ve got your number, too,” he said. “You’ll have to save mine to your contacts.” He handed my phone back, and I gave him one of the bags. “Will do. Can I call you tomorrow?” “Tomorrow’s Opening Day,” Darren said. “Wanna catch the game together?” I think my heart skipped a beat. “Yeah… I’d like that.

Found them on some dead thing back in the woods and for a moment there it took me right back to Saturday nights at Randy’s Rusty Spur. Now you might think that was just the name of some no-good bar, but you’d be wrong. God, that boy got around.