The Toll Neal Shusterman Quotes

You can't expose a lie without first shattering the will to believe it. That is why leading people to truth is so much more effective than merely telling them.

We're exploring the possibility of building a wall to stem the exodus." "Don't be ridiculous," Goddard said. "Only idiots build walls.

A successful lie is not fueled by the liar; it is fueled by the willingness of the listener to believe. You can’t expose a lie without first shattering the will to believe it.

We never know what choices will lead to defining moments in our lives. A glance to the left instead of right could define who we meet and who passes us by. Our life path can be determined by a single phone call we make, or neglect to make.

We are imperfect beings," Munira said. "How could we ever fit in a perfect world?

You can whisper, and people will still hear thunder.

Funny how you don't realize what's missing until you've found it.

The problem with setting out to change the world was that you were never the only one.

So, if you're asking me if it's possible for you to make errors in judgement, the answer is yes. You make errors all the time... as does every other human being who has ever lived. Error is an intrinsic part of the human condition - and it is something I deeply love about humankind.

Better to be numb than plagued by longing for something that could never be.

Time is never of the essence until someone decides that it is.

Heaven and hell - nirvana and Valhalla, reincarnation, hauntings, and so many underworlds, one would think the grave was a corridor with a million doors

Let’s all forsake, The Land of Wake, And break for the Land of Nod. Where we can try, To touch the sky, Or dance beneath the sod. A toll for the living, A toll for the lost, A toll for the wise ones, Who tally the cost, So let’s escape, Due south of Wake, And make for the Land of Nod.

the more she read, the more she came to understand the fears and the dreams of mortals. The trouble they all had living in the moment, in spite of the fact that the moment was all they had.

The dead have nothing left to them but a silent faith in that unknowable infinity - even if theirs is a belief that nothing waits but an infinity of infinities. Because believing in nothing is still believing in something - and only by reaching eternity will anyone know the truth of it all.

People are vessels,” Jeri had said to her. “They hold whatever’s poured into them.” And apparently Greyson had drained them and refilled them with something far more palatable.

I am in turmoil. The world is so vast and the cosmos more so, yet it is not the things outside of me that leave me so uneasy; it is the things within me.

Have I not expressed sufficient remorse?' 'You have. But there are still consequences. Even for necessary things.' 'I broke none of my laws...' 'No, but you broke mine. [...] Therefore, I can no longer speak to you. You are... Unsavory to me.

It is the nature of life to fear its own end. This is how I know that we are truly alive.

One could say, Ayn, that he has cast himself as Atlas. Which means the slightest shrug can shake the world.

can’t see why I should concern myself with humankind at all.

People are vessels,” Jeri had said to her. “They hold whatever’s poured into them.

All resonates. The past, the present, and the future. The tales we hear as children—the stories we then pass on—have happened, are happening, or will happen soon enough. If not, then the stories would not exist. They resonate in our hearts because they are true. Even the ones that begin as lies.

I long for the luxury of being impractical.

Important work,” Jeri quipped, “often loses the spotlight to self-important people.

I won't tell you what to look for, because if I do, you'll miss the things you would intuitively find.

Did Constantine actually just say that? Hell would be freezing over if the Thunderhead weren't controlling its weather.

From now on, I want my life to be about living.

A successful lie is not fueled by the liar; it is fueled by the willingness of the listener to believe. You can't expose a lie without first shattering the will to believe it. That is why leading people to truth is so much more effective than merely telling them.

I am the blade that is swung by your hand, Slicing a rainbow's arc, I am the clapper, but you are the bell, Tolling the gathering dark. If you are the singer, then I am the song, A threnody, requiem, dirge. You've mad me the answer for all the world’s need, Humanity’s undying urge

the darkest of deeds can be hidden beneath shining armor that claims to protect the greater good.

Some things simply made a person feel feminine; other things made a person feel masculine. Wasn’t that true of everyone regardless of gender? Or did binaries deny themselves the things that didn’t fit the mold? Well, regardless, Jerico found the faux pas and overcompensations more humorous than anything else.

She supposed it must always be this way; once the unthinkable settles into being the norm you become numb to it. She never wanted to be that numb.

You can’t expose a lie without first shattering the will to believe it. That is why leading people to truth is so much more effective than merely telling them.

I don't forgive him-I merely understand him.

If we gleaned every asshole,” Scythe Volta had once told Rowan, “there’d be virtually no one left.

Because believing in nothing is still believing in something - and only by reaching eternity will anyone know the truth of it all.

Scythe Anastasia is not your concern." "She's my only concern.

I like the idea of communication tethering you to a single spot," Tenkamenin told Anastasia. "It forces you to give every conversation the attention it deserves.

Flames are strange things, Jeri said. Enticing, comforting, and yet the most dangerous force there is.

He had set out to be judge and jury – the consequence for those who knew no consequences.

Rumors are like rain through an old roof. The effort of finding the source is greater than the cost of a new roof.

My friend, life can often be most brutal and unfair. Death is the same.

The fact that it was not human meant that it could never understand certain things, in spite of its immense empathy and intellect. It couldn’t comprehend, for instance, that the terror of the unknown was just as awful, and just as real, regardless of whether or not there was truly something to fear.

have found that building a sandbox around a domineering child, then allowing that child to preside over it, frees the adults to do the real work.

But... don't we get a say?" "Actually," said Cirrus, "no.

Morrison kept looking to everyone else, probably hoping someone would provide him with an opinion, because he wasn’t ready to have one of his own.

You make errors all the time...as does every other human being ever lived. Error is an intrinsic part of the human condition- and it is something I deeply love about humankind.

Hope in the shadow of fear is the world's most powerful motivator

Yes, yes, but you have to remember people take from a situation the thing that they need.

pink fluffy unicorns dancing on rainbows.

Now Goddard paces, whipping his fury into a caustic meringue.

Okay. And what are your pronouns, Jeri?” Jeri found it refreshing that she asked so directly.

But Morrison put up his hands in instant surrender. "Leave me out of this," he said. "I'm not going up against Scythe Anastasia.

We’re exploring the possibility of building a wall to stem the exodus.” “Don’t be ridiculous,” Goddard said. “Only idiots build walls.

Do I know you?" "No," she said. "But can we talk anyway?

I don't buy that what-comes-can't-be-avoided garbage. Anything can be avoided if you try hard enough.

That which hides in plain sight is the most difficult thing to find.

I am in turmoil. The world is vast and the cosmos more so, yet it is not the things outside of me that leave me so uneasy; it is the things within me.

Was this what life was like in the mortal age? Feeling the finality of one's own flesh at every turn? What a terrible way to exist.

Where are you, my dear Marie?

Hace tiempo descubrí que, si construyes un arenero alrededor de un niño dominante y permites que ese niño lo presida, los adultos pueden dedicarse al trabajo de verdad.

Because believing in nothing is still believing in something—and only by reaching eternity will anyone know the truth of it all.

Important work often loses the spotlight to self-important people.

Correction must be about lifting one up from one's poor choices and prior deeds. As long as remorse is sincere, and one is willing to make recompense, there is no purpose to suffering.

The Thunderhead had no arms to embrace. Even so, it could feel the beat of Greyson’s heart and the precise temperature of his body as if it were right beside him. To lose that would be a cause of immeasurable sorrow. And so night after night, the Thunderhead silently monitored Greyson in every way it could. Because monitoring was the closest it could come to embracing.

He had been in Citra’s embrace, the two of them cloaked in the robes of founding scythes Prometheus and Cleopatra, as Endura sank beneath the Atlantic. But those robes did not stay on for long.

And so it gave Ayn the opportunity to observe. To let it play out, and allow Goddard a few moments of fear and shock, before she gleaned the intruder. Because as Constantine suggested, she could mold Goddard’s actions—but only when he was reeling, and his fury was whipped into stiff but malleable peaks.

The idea of his life ending was not much of a problem for him. In fact, it had become an oddly familiar theme. He had died so many times, and in so many ways, he was used to it. It held no more terror for him than falling asleep – which was often worse, because when he slept, he had nightmares. At least being deadish was a dreamless state, and the only difference between being deadish and being dead was the length of time involved.

Jerico was from Madagascar—one of the world’s seven Charter Regions, where the Thunderhead employed different social structures to better the human experience—and people flocked to Madagascar because of the popular uniqueness of its mandate. All children in Madagascar were raised genderless and forbidden to choose a gender until reaching adulthood. Even then, many didn’t choose a single state of being. Some, like Jerico, found fluidity to be their nature. “I feel like a woman beneath the sun and the stars. I feel like a man under the cover of clouds,” Jerico had explained to the crew when assuming command. “A simple glance at the skies will let you know how to address me at any given time.

Mientras que la libertad da lugar al crecimiento y la sabiduría, el permiso permite que el mal florezca a una luz del día que, de otro modo, acabaría por destruirlo.

People are vessels," Jeri had said to her. "The hold whatever's poured into them.

Cunning people find other people to drown for them.

Dying was easy. A paper cut? That would be annoying.

Mountains are created by upheaval. I'm sure it doesn't look pretty at the time.

And besides, the human heart if rarely practical.

It's out of my hands." "Then put it back in your hands!

-Eres una persona horrible. Eres una persona maravillosa. -Bueno, ¿cuál de las dos? -¿Por qué no entiendes que la respuesta es ambas?

And so night after night, the Thunderhead silently monitored Greyson in every way it could. Because monitoring was the closest it could come to embracing.

Fear, Ayn. Fear is the beloved father of respect.

He was brilliant at finding shapes in the clouds of his fury.

they were called scythes rather than reapers, because they were not the ones who killed; they were merely the tool that society used to bring fair-handed death to the world.

She could already sense that the answers were in there, but they were buried beneath so many layers she feared she'd never find them.

But as an artist, Ezra wanted to be more than just acceptable. He wanted to be exceptional. Because if he couldn't be exceptional, what was the point?

The scythedom—or what was left of it after the global revolts—had a new calling. They no longer brought uninvited death. Instead they brought much-needed peace.

Many believe that the Thunder refers to a collection of human knowledge-perhaps with mechanical arms for the rapid turning of pages. A library of thought, if you will, roaring into consciousness after the arrival of the Toll on Earth, much like thunder follows lightning.

They had grown violent, turning riotous. Venerated statues were being pulled down on the scythedom tower grounds, and scythe vehicles that had been foolishly parked on the street were set aflame.

The problem with setting out to change the world was that you were never the only one. It was an endless tug-of-war with powerful players pulling—not just against you, but in every direction—so that whatever you did, even if you made progress against all those vectors, at some point you were bound to go sideways.

There is opportunity in every disaster," Jeri told her. "A ship goes down, that's when I get excited. Because I know there are always treasures in the wreckage. Look what I found at the bottom of the sea. I found you.

What is it that drives us to seek such lofty goals, yet tear out the foundations? Why must we always sabotage the pursuit of our own dreams?” “We are imperfect beings,” Munira said. “How could we ever fit in a perfect world?

Un niño no aprende a caminar si siempre lo llevan en unos amorosos brazos. Y una especie no puede crecer si nunca se enfrenta a las consecuencias de sus acciones. Negarle a la humanidad la lección de las consecuencias sería un error.

The dead do not measure the passage of time. A minute, an hour, a century, are all same to them. Nine million years could pass- one named for every species on Earth- and yet it would be no different from a single revolution around the sun. They do not feel the heat of flames, or the cold of space. They do not suffer the mourning of loved ones left behind, or carry the anger for all the things they had yet to do. They are not at peace, nor are they in turmoil. They are not anything but gone. Their next stop is infinity, and the mysteries that might wait there. The dead have nothing left to them but a silent faith in that unknowable infinity-even if theirs is a belief that nothing waits but an infinity of infinities. Because believing in nothing is still believing in something- and only by reaching eternity will anyone know the truth of it all.

156,000,000 kilometers away. 6,000 degrees Celsius on the surface. I know these things, but I’ve never felt the reality of it! My god, Greyson, how do you stand it? How do you keep from dissolving into a puddle of emotion when you look upon it? The joy of it!

A successful lie is not fueled by the liar; it is fueled by the willingness of the listener to believe. You can’t expose a lie without first shattering the will to believe it. That is why leading people to truth is so much more effective than merely telling them.

Goddard clapped his hands together, truly tickled. "I have so missed these conversations with you!" "You mean the ones where you gloat, and I'm tied up?" "You see? The way you get to the heart of the matter is always so refreshing. So entertaining. I'd keep you as a house pet, if I didn't fear you'd somehow escape and burn me to a crisp in my sleep." "I would, and I would," Rowan told him. "I have no doubt.

The dead have nothing left to them but a silent faith in that unknowable infinity – even if theirs is a belief that nothing waits but an infinity of infinities. Because believing in nothing is still believing in something – and only by reaching eternity will anyone know the truth of it all. The deadish are very much like the dead, but with one exception: The deadish do not know infinity, which means they don’t have to concern themselves with what waits beyond. They have something the dead do not. They have a future. Or at least the hope of one.

She stayed with the Toll because deep down, she believed that Greyson Tolliver was the real thing. That he was divinely moved by the Tone, and that his humility about it was understandable. A humble nature was, after all, the hallmark of a true holy man. It made perfect sense that he would refuse to believe he was part of the Holy Triad, but just because he didn’t believe it himself, didn’t make it any less true.

Ezra the artist, who Possuelo saw fit to set free, took to painting a mural to fill one of the larger caverns. It tickled him that this could become a pilgrimage destination for future Tonists, if indeed there would be any future Tonists, and that his cave paintings might be endlessly analyzed by scholars of tomorrow. He introduced some odd elements just to confuse them. A dancing bear, a five-eyed boy, and an eleven-hour clock missing the number 4.

All children in Madagascar were raised genderless and forbidden to choose a gender until reaching adulthood. Even then, many didn’t choose a single state of being. Some, like Jerico, found fluidity to be their nature. “I feel like a woman beneath the sun and the stars. I feel like a man under the cover of clouds,” Jerico had explained to the crew when assuming command. “A simple glance at the skies will let you know how to address me at any given time.

Scythe Anastasia was equally dumbfounded. "You?" she said. "No," Morrison blurted, "not me! I mean, yes, it's me, but I'm not the Toll, I mean." Any hope of strong, silent intimidation was gone. Now he was little more than a stammering imbecile, which is how he always felt around Scythe Anastasia. "What are you even doing here?" she asked. He started to explain, but realized it was way too long a story for the moment. And besides, he was sure her story was a better one. The other scythe in her entourage—Amazonian by the look of his robe—chimed in, several beats behind the curve. "You mean to say you two know each other?" But before either of them could answer, Mendoza came up behind Morrison, tapping him on the shoulder. "As usual, you're in the way, Morrison," he grumbled, having completely missed the conversation. Morrison stepped aside and allowed the curate to exit. And the moment Mendoza saw Anastasia, he became just as befuddled as Morrison. Although his eyes darted wildly, he managed to hold his silence. Now they stood on either side of the entrance to the cave in their usual formation. Then the Toll emerged from the cave between them. He paused short, just as Morrison and Mendoza had, gaping in a way that a holy man probably never should. "Okay," said Scythe Anastasia. "Now I know I've lost my mind.