Maximum Ride The Angel Experiment Quotes

Because what’s worse than knowing you want something, besides knowing you can never have it?

Man, you weigh a freaking ton," he told me. "What've you been eating, rocks?" "Why, is your head missing some?" I croaked. His mouth almost quirked in a smile, and that's when I knew how upset he'd been

Popcorn for breakfast! Why not? It's a grain. It's like, like, grits, but with high self-esteem.

Yes!” said Fang, punching the air. “Freaks rule.

I feel like, like pudding," Iggy groaned. "Pudding with nerve endings. Pudding in great pain.

The funny thing about facing imminent death is that it really snaps everything else into perspective.

Holy [Insert your choice of a swear word here]," said Fang stunned.

Well, that's an evil smile...

Dr. Martinez: "I take it you don't want me to call your parent?" Max: "Uh, no." Hello, lab? May I speak to the test tube please?

In the dictionary, next to the word stress, there is a picture of a midsize mutant stuck inside a dog crate, wondering if her destiny is to be killed or to save the world. Okay, not really. But there should be.

I took a bite of cookie and chewed. “Hmmm,” I said, trying not to spit crumbs. “Clear vanilla notes, too-sweet chocolate chips, distinct flavor of brown sugar. A decent cookie, not spectacular. Still, a good-hearted cookie, not pretentious.” I turned to Fang. “What say you?” “It’s fine.” Some people just don’t have what it takes to appreciate a cookie.

I didn't know a van could go up on two wheels like that, for so long." -Nudge

Feeding a crowd?' the woman behind the counter asked. Yes, ma'am ,' Fang said sweetly. Yeah, him and all his split personalities, I thought.

Gazzy: "What does that mean?" (points to metal plaque warning to stay off the third rail that said Stay off the third rail!) Fang: "It means the third rail has seven hundred volts of direct current running through it. Touch it and you're human popcorn.

I muttered a swear word to myself. After I heard Angel cussing like a sailor when she stubbed her toe, my new resolution was to watch my language. All I needed was a six-year-old mutant with a potty mouth

Nudge: You aren't dead. Iggy (irritably): No. You aren't dead either. How about just 'hello'?

There's nothing more annoying than cold logic and reason when you've got a good fit going.

Some kids get called 'bundles of joy' or 'slices of heaven' or 'dreams come true.' We got 'the fifty-fourth generation of DNA experiments.' Doesn't have the same warm and fuzzy feel. But maybe I'm oversensitive.

Excellent. They were flammable.

Can you giggle while racing for your life and protecting a six-year-old? I can.

Why was the blind guy playing with matches, you ask? Because he's good at it. Anything to do with fire, igniting things, exploding things, things with fuses, wicks, accelerants . . . Iggy's your man. It's one of those good/bad things.

Do we have any chlorine? It seems to be kind of explosive when mixed with other stuff." "Like what, your socks? No, we don't have chlorine. No swimming pool.

Max!' Nudge cried, rushing over to hug me. Her thin arms gripped me tight, and I hugged her back, scratching her wings where they joined her shoulders, the way she liked. 'We were so worried—I didn’t know what had happened to you, and we didn’t know what to do, and Fang said we going to eat rats, and—' 'Okay, okay. Everything’s okay,' I told her. I met Fang’s eyes over her shoulder and mouthed rats? silently. A flicker of a grin crossed his lips and then was gone.

Frustration was my constant companion. I wanted to scream. "What the he-eck are we supposed to do now? I asked Fang. He looked at me, and I could tell he was mulling over the problem. He held out a small waxed-paper bag. Peanut?

Is this a movie?' I heard someone ask. Naw- this is too original for Hollywood. They do sequels.

Jeb: I wish I could explain what I'd give just to see you smile again. Max (thinking): How about your head on a stick?

Fang was going to kill me. And after I was dead, he would kill me again.

Jeb: But I need to tell you something first. Max (thinking): That you are the devil incarnate?

I have an idea. It’s risky, and Max will kill us when she finds out.” Iggy raised his head. “Sounds like my kind of idea.

I want to be able to see stuff," Iggy said. "Like I used to, when I was little. And I want to be able to totally kick Jeb's butt.

Fang snorted in disbelief. "On one hand, we have a mythical nice family that wants to adopt me. On the other, we have a gang of insane scientists desperate to do genetic experiments on innocent children. Guess which hand I get dealt?

I led the way toward the crowd, trying to look casual, like, Fly? Me? Nah.

It was the building from the drawing in my brain. And if you don’t think that’s a weird sentence, maybe you should reread it.

When are you going to trust me Max?" asked Fang. "When I go completely bonkers," I laughed.

Don’t be afraid.” “I hear voices,” Iggy said. “Be very afraid.

Sometimes he seems like a droid--or a drone. Fang of Nine. Fang2-D2.

Did I want a dog? No. Did I need a dog? Also no. We were six kids running for our lives, not knowing where our next meal was coming from. Could we afford to feed a dog? Wait for it—no.

I shot him the bird. (Get it? I shot him the—never mind.)

Fang and I searched in every way we could think of and found a million institutes of one kind or another, in Manhattan and throughout New York state, but none of them seemed promising. My favorite? The Institute for Realizing Your Pet's Inner Potential. Anyone who can explain that to me, drop a line.

Max?” said the Gasman. “Are those, um, rats?” Lovely. “Yes, those do appear to be either rats or mice on steroids,” I said briskly, trying not to shriek and climb the walls like a girly-girl.

We probably looked like starving orphan children. Hey! We were starving orphan children.

Jeez, was that a lion? Please tell me it’s behind bars.” “It’s a zoo, Iggy,” Nudge said, taking his arms and leading him. “Everything’s behind bars.

Maybe it's information the whitecoats never wanted anyone to figure out.' Fang said in the hollow Twilight Zone-y voice he used sometimes when things got unusually weird- as opposed to regular weird.

Call me crazy, but there's just something cheering about seeing huge raptors tear into Eraser flesh.

Max-Dogs, dogs, go away, let me live another day.

I stared at her in amazement. "How do you even live with yourself?"..."You're willing to sell children to a foreign government so they can be used as weapons, possibly against other Americans. I don't get it. Were you hiding behind a door on morals and ethics day?...You couldn't mother someone if they shot five gallons of estrogen into your veins.

Iggy’s spine tightened, his face like ice. When he’d been at the School, they’d tried to surgically enhance his night vision. Now he was blind forever. Oops.

Just for fun I flew in huge banking arcs, taking deep breaths, enjoying the feel of my newly weightless hair. The stylist had called it “wind tossed.” If only she knew.

Is it important to be right or is it important to do what’s right? That’s one of the hardest lessons to learn.

I couldn’t leave Total behind.” “Total?” Iggy asked. “That’s what his card said,” Angel explained. “Totally a mutant dog who will probably turn on us and kill us in our sleep,” Fang said.

Iggy: So what are we going to do? Yeah leader, lead.

You really hurt me. I wouldn't hurt you. Not like this.

It’s, like, a safety bomb.” -Iggy

When did they start coming after you?” “Was it—was it after the oil- slick Hummer crash?” the Gasman asked Iggy tentatively. My eyes widened. Oil-slick Hummer crash? Iggy rubbed his chin, thinking. “Or maybe it was more---after the bomb,” the Gasman said in a low voice, looking down. “I think it was the bomb,” Iggy agreed. “That definitely seemed to tick them off.” “Bomb?” I asked incredulously.

A vet! I started laughing weakly and had to sit on the edge of the tub. A vet. Wait till they found out how appropriate that was.

The receptionist looked us over, then went back to typing something incredibly urgent—like her résumé́ for another job.

Angel wanted them all to burn in h-e- double toothpicks forever.

Veins practically popping out of his neck, the jerk leaned out his window and yelled a bunch of swear words, including a new one I tucked away in my brain for future use, if necessary.

I love Nudge, Nudge is a great kid, but that motormouth of hers could have turned Mother Teresa into an ax murderer

Another day. Get up and face it.

Angel: What's sauerkraut? Max: You don't want it. Trust me.

Iggy. This is not a democracy," I said,(...)"It's a Maxocracy.

You have a memory chip that small implanted in you,” he verified. I nodded, guessing this was somewhat worse than having cooties.

It gets so tiring, this strong-picking-on-the-weak stuff. It was the story of my life -literally- and it seemed to be a big part of the outside world too. I was sick of it, sick of guys like these, stupid and bullying.

Maybe he was a good a good whitecoat—like Jeb. And maybe the moon was made of cream cheese.

The next morning-at least, I assumed it was morning, since we were all waking up- I felt like one of those twelve dancing princesses, who danced all night, wore holes in their shoes, and had to sleep it off the next day. Except, oh yeah: a)I'm not a princess; b)sleeping in a subway tunnel and having another brain attack aren't that much like dancing all night; and c) my combat boots were still in good shape. Other than that, it was exactly the same.

That's more than three questions, Max. And sometimes wheter someone is your friend or enemy is all in how you look at it. But if you must know, I consider myself your friend, a good friend who loves you very much. No one Loves you more than I do, Maximum. Now listen. I ask the questions here, not you. You're just here for the ride. For the incredible, indescribable Maximum Ride.

I still felt like I might hurl, and I thought about how awful that would be in midair.

You are a fridge with wings. We're freaking ballet dancers.

Knowledge is a terrible burden. It may help you, but it might also destroy you.

Fang. I had to do some thinking about him. Me. I had some thinking to do about me too.

Max-I'm not going to die today.

Congratulations. The fact that you're reading this means you've taken one giant step closer to surviving until your next birthday.

I want to know about my mom. And other stuff. I want to know the whole story, good or bad.” “Me, too,” said Gazzy. “I want to find my parents so I can tell’m what total scuzzes they are. Like, ‘Hi, mom and dad, you’re such scum!

I want to be a scientist who studies the ocean when I grow up. I would go out to sea, and scuba dive, and find new things, and National Geographic will hire me.” Sure, Nudge. Probably around the time I become president.

I gave him a kick and he stepped back onto the third rail. Exploding, flaming eraser! This is why moms tell you to stay away from the third rail, but it sure came in handy this time.

Plus her mom was so awesome. She was strict about some things—don’t leave your socks lying around—but so not strict about other things, like calling the cops about my bullet wound.

I just wish I could walk into my Senator’s office and say, “Senator Dude, Um, we have a problem with these sicko scientists…” But then again, I don’t think we have a Senator, do we? Is there a state where mutant freaks are represented? If so, let me know.

I flipped down the visor so I could check myself in the mirror, and something small and heavy dropped into my lap. I froze, my breath stuck in my throat. What—? Gingerly, I looked down. It wasn’t a grenade. It was a key ring. One key was for this van. I looked at it blankly. “Well, that’ll simplify things,” Fang said.

My choices were to either give in and let them kill all of us or fight back with everything I had. I chose the second one, ’cause I’m just funny that way.

It’s wherever you are. If it’s tapped into any of your senses, it knows where you are and what you’re doing.” Oh no, I thought, my spirits sinking. I hadn’t considered that. Did that mean nothing I did was ever anymore? “Even in the bathroom?” the Gasman’s eyes widened with surprise.

When I wanted information, it was silent; when I didn't want to hear from it, it got chatty. It was alost as irritating as Fang.

Iggy nodded. “I’m bummed we couldn’t use Big Boy,” he said. “But I don’t want to waste it. We have to actually see them first. I mean, you do.” “Maybe tomorrow,” the Gasman said encouragingly. “We’ll go see what havoc we’ve wreaked.” “Wrought.

I won’t lie to you—it was hilarious. Yes, we were in trouble, yes, this was a disaster, and so one and so forth, but I have to say, seeing those upturned faces, the looks, was bout the best thing that happened to us since we’d come to New York.

Gazzy: "What does that mean?" (points to metal plaque warning to stay off the third rail that said Stay off the third rail!) Fang: "It means the third rail has seven hundred volts of direct current running through it. Touch it and you're human popcorn." “Okay,” I said. “Good tip. Everyone stay off the third rail. Then I shot Fang a look that said, Thank you for that lovely image. He almost grinned at me.

Part 5 The Voice- Make that my voice

Jeezum—humans were like eggshells.

Even needing to get to Angel, we couldn’t forget the basic necessity of eating.

It's always refreshing to meet someone crazier than us," I said. "We seem so normal afterward.

Some people just don't have what it takes to appreciate a cookie.

It's okay, Ig." said Fang. "Just give it your best shot." Sometimes the Fangster is incredibly supportive, just not with me.

My, g**, he was as strong as a team of oxen. That would be strong right?

I want my room to smell just like this." Iggy inhaled deeply as the scents flame-broiled burgers and hot french fries wafted around us. 'it would be an improvement.' I agreed.

I don't know about the rest of you who have little voices, but something about mine made me feel completely compelled to listen to it.

Why aren't crazy people content to take over, like, one town? It always has to be the whole word. They can't just control maybe twenty people. The have to control everyone. The can't just be stinking rich. The can't just do genetic experiments on a couple unlucky few. They have to put something in the water. In the air. To get everyone. I was tired of all of it.

This is not a democracy," I said, understanding he fear but unable to do anything about it. "It's a Maxocracy.

What?" I said, suspicion starting to rise in me. "When did they start coming after you?" "Was it— was it after the oil-slick Hummer crash?" the Gasman asked Iggy tentatively. My eyes widened. Oil-slick Hummer crash? Iggy rubbed his chin, thinking. "Or maybe it was more— after the bomb," the Gasman said in a low voice, looking down. "I think it was the bomb," Iggy agreed. "That definitely seemed to tick them off.

The eraser

But if I could do anything? Maybe you would want to be able to save the world, the Voice said. Did you ever think of that? No. I frowned. Leave that to the grown-ups. But grown-ups are the ones destroying the world, the Voice said. Think about it.

Max—you have a bigger mission than finding the flock's parents. Focus on helping the whole world, not just your friends. I held my wings steady, coasting for a long, long way on a warm updraft. It was like floating on a cloud, the best feeling you can imagine. I wish you could try it with me. Maybe next time. You know, Voice, I thought finally, my friends are my world.