If that which we have found is the corruption of solitude, then what can men wish for save corruption? If this is the great evil of being alone, than what is good and what is evil?

In the afternoon, they stopped to eat on a rocky outcrop. Perry brushed a kiss on her cheek while she was chewing, and she learned that it was the loveliest thing to be kissed for no reason, even while chewing food. It brightened the woods, and the never sky, and everything.

You matter.

It's taken me all this time, all this loss, to realize what really matters is now.

No, not really. But …” Okay, I couldn’t help but gloat a little. “She likes me.”Samedi didn’t even look at me. “Well of course, you’ve had that bloody uniform on all day. I was half ready to tell you how much I liked you.

Returning my voice to a conversational level, I called back, “Nora, I’m notattempting to embarrass you or single you out. I know you’re capable. But stay behind Chas, okay? You die, you d i e permanently, and for various reasons that we’ve already gotten angsty about together, I don’t want that to happen.”“Okay, okay,” she sighed.“Angsty?” Chas asked. “Ooh! Later, details!”“Yes, later.” With that, I waved the team forward.

They filled our world with weapons aimed at foreheads and smiled as they shot 16 candles right through our future. They killed those strong enough to fight back and locked up the freaks who failed to live up to their utopian expectations.

Hello, dinner. It’s me, I’m starving. And I know where you live.

Maligned –powerfully-drawn characters acting out a disturbing view of our future.” -David Compton, New York Times Best-Selling author

Even if such beauty wasn't meant to be in a world so fallen as ours, that didn't take away from its beauty. It only made it more beautiful.

And what would they be scared of? There's nothing to fear in a perfect world, is there?

He felt as if he had left a stage behind and many actors. He felt as if he had left the great seance and all the murmuring ghosts. He was moving from an unreality that was frightening into a reality that was unreal because it was new.

For the briefest of instants, a miles-wide hole appeared from the middle of the Earth to the top of the sky. The Moho rang like a tuning fork in harmonic response to the billion megaton impact. Seismic waves propagated in all directions, some dampening as normal, others amplified harmonically as Earth’s interior quivered like a bowl of pudding. Seismometers spiked wildly, their needles bouncing back and forth like pin-balls.A billion megatons exploded outward from the depths of the quivering Moho blasting a crater eighty-five miles in diameter and spewing billions of tons of superheated rock twelve hundred miles into space. In the blink of an eye the Earth grew a tail, as a mushroom cloud visible from Mars formed and spread, black as the Devil's eye.

He doesn't trust people because he knows they are all the same. Everyone cares about their own survival and nothing else, just like him. Since he is more than willing to kill for it, so are they. After all, he has endured through all these years, leading him to be alone, it was the only conclusion that made sense.

When the bombs fell, it wasn't a war; it was an obliteration. No one had any idea who shot first or why.

Those rabbits stopped fighting the system, because it was easier to take the loss of freedom, to forget what it was like before the fence kept them in, than to be out there in the world struggling to find shelter and food. They had decided that the loss of some was worth the temporary comfort of many.

There are moment of sadness and moment of joy. This is life.

You see, evil men, the likes of whom have sought to enslave their fellow man since the dawn of creation, took America not by might or strength of arms, but by deception and guile.

They are as smart as they are ruthless. That's why they've been around for all five years.

Maybe I should stop while I'm aheadNay, I swim with sea-demons no sweet summer tuned radioover my sunless desertscapehow does it burn without the sun?

May your song guide you home.

I laughed under my breath, and it sounded bitter. “Listen to me. What am I talking about, worth it? Is any experience or bit of beauty worth the cost of my life? I know nothing but safety and self-preservation at all costs.”“And yet,” he said softly, “you’re risking everything to help me.

Some people are just sad when there aren't talking squirrels.” —Lily Winter

Odd names: Winter, Autumn—they almost sound as if someone just made them up.” —Dubb

Tavin cupped his hands to his mouth. “Here, dragon-dragon-dragon!” he yelled.Lily stared in amazement. Well, that was bold, she thought, and stupid.

The bleached ceilings, walls, and floors gleam in perfection. Drained of color, wiped of contamination, forever untainted they exist; a cold reminder of my purity.

You won't find the tales I bear in any books . . . My tales are from the Moon Realm.” —Ebb Autumn

But—" yelped Twizbang, “Greydor will eat us!

Trust no one," said Sullivan, "especially Teachers.

Adapt or die. It was savagely simple." -- CelesteALL LIGHT WILL FALL

I stare into the ruggedly handsome face, the eyes alight with a vast intelligence and that eerie, unearthly power. He's beautiful, so haunted with power it takes me a second to realize exactly what position Nolan Storm has put me in, and by extension, my family.

He places a hand on either side of the bar, locking me in. 'And why won't you admit it?' he asks. I'm so startled by his new, gentler tone that I hazard a glance. My breath catches in my throat. Jared's eyes have changed to that sumptuous green, huge and mesmerizing, the pupils dilating like a cat's. I can't see to look away as he inches forward, until he's standing all but a hair's breadth away from me.

Frown deepening, Jared bounces a hand off the chair arm. 'You know you're different, Princess. And it's not just because you're some fancy, spoiled rich girl. Hell, you don't smell like anyone else. Money can't buy that smell.' I assume he wasn't talking about my expensive perfume, which money did in fact buy.

He licks his lips as his head tilts down toward me. My body goes wild. Frissons of electricity travel up and down my spine as the True Born leans down. His voice is silk in my ear. 'You're not with your parents now. No restrictions. How does that make you feel?

What's a Laster? A dead man.

Even the best laid plans turn to hell when exposed to reality

What if the Devil doesn't know he's the Devil?

Always have a plan, but be prepared to change it at any given moment.

IT IS SAID that time is unrelated to everything else. It goes on and on, unnoticing of our actions, our falls, our triumphs. Who’s to care then, if time does not remember us? It flies by, fleeting, inattentive and disinterested in any occupants of this earth. What are we, then, if time thinks so little of everyone it passes? Time is truly apathetic to the many to whom a little empathy would mean so much.~April~ Disarming Reign of Blood

Sometimes it's very difficult to keep momentum when it's you that you are following. - Andrew Lloyd Webber

She would rather remain silent, but her voice is no longer something to fear. It’s strong. Powerful. A weapon of emotions.

The perpetual movement of the water, rolling from and to unknown destinations, the voices of the sea shield us from the raging furies and shrieking sounds of dystopian surroundings, creating an unwinding veil for stilled happiness, acquainting us with the gentle, cosmic rhythms of an extraneous world. They are a soothing relief and let us listen to the voices of our inner world. ("Voices of the sea" )

There is an art to Noavek bullshit," Cyra said as she muted the feed. "We're taught it from birth.

There’s no god, it’s the elements that control this world and everything on it.

Whatever you do, please don’t do anything reckless. These are very powerful people, some of which are very dangerous.” She hesitates, then continues. “This is a government agency, and you’re just…” She trails off, and I have a feeling that I know what she’s going to say.“I’m just an office assistant,” I mutter, repeating Gideon’s words.“No. I was going to say that you’re too in love with my daughter to think rationally.

I found him between a reality and a nightmare.

Human beings are born of blood, bound by gravity, eventually to perish... fallible by design... destined.

Freedom is a state of mind.

Before the next minute had passed, they had all fallen to the ground. Just like that. As though someone had reached inside and turned off a switch."What happened?" Matt asked, gasping.I went from one person to the next, trying to wake them up, but they were all dead, wrote Daft Donald.

It hurts,” Summer cries, head shaking back and forth. “Please, make it stop.” Sweat beads on her forehead.“What hurts?” Cameron asks.“My eyes.”Summer’s eyes open. Everyone gasps. They’re no longer blue; they appear bionic, like a circuit board’s inside her eyes. Panicked now, Summer reaches for her face. “What is it? What’s wrong?

She began sobbing again. “I’m not ready to die.

I knew that feeling, the sense of panic that stretched time, turning seconds into years, and the deep pain that came from being hurt by not one person but many, a gang of bullies that expanded into a neighborhood and then into a community, until you questioned the whole world. And your last thought, as you stretch your arm until your fingers are inches from that lifeline, is how if you survive, you'll find a way to help fix what was broken, so you can say that yes, you want to be part of the world again.

Quote from “FUTURE GONE”: "…I wonder what actually this hospital is, why I am in it and who I am. I have no time to find out. I die, with my arms stretched towards the spotlights.Then whiteness.My body is still there somewhere…Buried in the extremely bright lights of empty hope".

Home, home - a few small rooms, stiflingly over-inhabited by a man, by a periodically teeming woman, by rabble of boys and girls of all ages. No air, no space; an understerilized prison; darkness, disease and smells.

Someone who doesn’t know if tomorrow will come would rather live every day twice than live it once.

Devoid of any real liberty or justice, America and her children had fallen prey to what amounted to little more than a thinly veiled dictatorship. She now represented not the proud citadel of freedom, but the failed experiment of democracy.

There was something called Christianity.

And it occurs to me that there’s no real difference between us, the living and the dead; it’s just a matter of tense: past-dead and future-dead

You may live to see man-made horrors beyond your comprehension.

You talk as if a god had made the Machine," cried the other. "I believe that you pray to it when you are unhappy. Men made it, do not forget that. Great men, but men. The Machine is much, but not everything.

They say that when people still rode on vehicles powered by oil, they could go anywhere they wanted.

Never trust a man who sits, uninvited, at the head of the table in another man's home.

My dad had always said to not trust something unless it’s taken a tumble in the dirt. He’d meant it for people, and for things. Shiny and new didn’t exist for humankind any more.

If you don't know a name, you can't be hurt when they go. I have no friends anymore, all are lost.

…I’m afraid of what the digital age will do to the world, to the things we think are important… it’s almost like people want to believe in some illusion that they’re robots and forget altogether that they’re real, living people… but everything these days is disposable, even people themselves, and that’s why I’m afraid for the world,” Mandy confessed, looking depressed and worried.“So am I… but I’ll still watch all of it as the world dooms itself, because I want to see how it ends, and whether or not they’ll be intelligent enough to forget all of this digital illusion afterwards,” Alecto explained. “I’m sure that they’ll be able to realize how wrong it all is… even though the idiots outnumber most people these days, there are still enough intelligent people to fight against it.

I made so many promises when I arrived here.Now I'm not so sure. Now I'm worried. Now my mind is a traitor because my thoughts crawl out of bed every morning with darting eyes and sweating palms and nervous giggles that sit in my chest, build in my chest, threaten to burst through my chest, and the pressure is tightening and tightening and tighteningLife around here isn't what I expected it to be.

Dear, sweet, beautiful girl,

Remember what I said when I led to Omar and the queen?" I bobbed my head, unable to look away from his jewel-like eyed, shining in the darkness...so much like Chorda's. "That was the lie. Good-bye, Lane," he said and then crept into the darkness.

Sure, you can break a man. Bend his will, even, but be careful with the ones that break easily. Those are the ones you have to keep a close eye on. Those are the ones that play possum and hide in the shadows. Just waiting for their time to strike! That's when you're most vulnerable. When you're surrounded by friends.

The most important thing you can ever know, is that whatever your purpose is, that's not your only choice.

I'll go over again and again until I've finally crossed to where he is

Isolation was the final blow. Scattering their unity like a body chopped into seven. Life cannot prevail in each piece; it can only survive as one. With every new grenade that the Institute lobbed, the body of hope died a little bit more.

I can taste the good-bye on his lips.

I know you’re scared. I’m scared too, all of the time. But I have been running for the last six years and I can’t run anymore. Our world is falling apart. We aren’t living, not really. We are just… surviving.

I knew I was not alone. They would never leave until ever last one of us was gone.

But just being whatever it is that I am . . . I don’t think that makes me a monster. Believe me, I know. ere are plenty of real monsters walking around out there in the world. ey look respectable, but can’t hide who they are from me. Real monsters hurt people for pleasure, or for no reason at all—they’re just not as well armed as I am.

By your eighteenth birthday you're supposed to know. They're supposed to tell you. Splicer. True Born. Laster.

... there are certain questions that must never be asked. Of anyone. Even oneself.

Let your life be a song. Let music be the background of whatever human things you will do for this blazing, spinning planet, and never let go of the good, never let go of the kindness.

Those eyes, they were my own kind of madness

If we keep punishing people for what their parents or their ancestors have done, the world as a whole can never move forward. Society will never grow.

Instead of a criminal or a drug addict, I was looking at a boy—just a boy.

Why aren’t you smiling?” Cameron asks. She picks up the Astropad and stops the video.“Because this is the beginning, not the end.

She waits for his reprimand or words of disapproval.He kisses her instead. Hard. Lips demanding, fingers tightening on her chin. He consumes her with this single act.

Time keeps ticking away, unaware of the suffering each second generates. Time doesn’t care, because if it did, it would’ve reversed.

Struggling transforms her captor into a Chinese finger trap. She’s suffocating. Sucking in air without relief. Her lungs expand. Contract. Expand. They fill with lies and broken promises. With despair and lost hope. Each inhale is empty. Invisible hands reach into her body and constrict around her windpipe. She watches her friends collapse like supernovae, their cognizance disappearing into a black hole. A black hole she’s quickly cascading into. The dark consumes, bleeds into her vision. She blinks. Catches icy blue eyes peeking out from the shadows.

Landon drops the bloody knife and stares at Summer like he doesn’t even know her anymore. The truth is, she’ll never be the girl she was seven months ago. Too much has happened. Too much has changed.“Why’d you do that?” Summer cries.“To save you,” he says.But there’s nothing left to save.

He holds her for an eternity. Time cascades into the void of the past. She inhales his scent. Full of man and strength and yearning. And she wonders why she ever doubted their relationship. Why she let Julian’s soothing touch coax her into loving him too. Gage is everything. Gage is hers.

Death and his scythe do not come. No sweeping black capes or ethereal escapes. There’s no pearly gate, no prisms of colors as his soul slips away. The stillness is cold steel. The silence is empty with no memory to mend it.

She feels him scoot closer, the heat of him radiating off his chest and absorbing into her skin. His legs straddle her from behind, and he places delicate kisses along her shoulder, her back, the very center of her spine. Each time is like an electric current surging through her, soul stirring and lovely.

Her gaze travels back to the lie twisted in a tempest of mud and blood. She witnesses the culmination of her recklessness through a curved lens. Absorbed in life uncoiling, unaware of the world beyond this ridge. His light hair, darkened by rain. His stiff shoulders, full of pain. The vision poisoned with truth. With rust-stained hues.

I’m sorry,” he says. No two words were ever truer.Still, she says nothing. Once a shield, now her taciturnity is brandished like a blade, carving away his sanity. She’s the flaw in the paragon of life—the reason angels choose to dive to their downfalls in fiery comets of stardust.

Dreams deny her the freedom she truly seeks. Darkness consumes. Leg muscles burn. She runs away, even while lost in the paradise of sleep. Gravity is a crushing force bearing down on her chest, shattering wings and refusing her flight. A whisper in her mind. You don’t belong here.

You should’ve told me,” she repeats. “Because here’s a news flash: You might’ve wanted to shelter me, but there’s nowhere you can hide me that’ll keep me safe from what’s inside my head.

A glacial chill rushes through Gage. He whips around just in time to see arms clutch Summer around the middle and drag her into the dark. Panic seizes him, and he takes off after her, regardless of the chaos brewing behind him. Her cry of surprise echoes all around them, drilling into his bones.

You didn’t tell Summer about it, did you?”“What?” Gage scoffs. “Yeah, telling your girlfriend the Angel of Death might visit her if some switch is flipped is normal pillow talk.

Maybe the Society was right all along. From the very beginning, that’s what they called her. A time bomb.Tick, tick, tick.

I thought it was just him,” she says, ignoring him. “But then I found out I had the same effect, which means the Society did something to my head too.”Gage’s eyes close, horror washing over him. “You really do love him.”“Yes. No. I don’t know.” Her cries start up again, piercing his heart. “Gage, help me.”“I love you,” he says, holding her closer. “That’s real.

Just in case you’re wondering,” Gage says, breaking the silence, “this alliance of ours doesn’t mean I like you.”“Feeling’s mutual.” Julian tosses him a disdainful look.

I can’t—won’t do that to him,” Summer says sharply. “Or to myself. Besides, your feelings for me aren’t real. The Society did this to you. And if they did it to you, they probably scrambled my brain too. I can’t trust that any of this is real.

Seconds ebb and wane. She’s not afraid of her voice anymore, but she’s not entirely sure she trusts it. She’s seen the damage caused with a single word. Right now, each one is a weapon, a conduit of war, and she won’t just throw them out there all willy-nilly.

When I see your scars, do I want to erase them? Absolutely. But not your physical scars. The real ones, beneath the surface. The ones that compel you to stay silent or force you to cringe. Those are the scars I want to obliterate.” His finger circles the dip of a burn mark on her forearm. “This is a battle trophy and nothing to be ashamed of. Every one of your scars makes you more beautiful to me.

Dammit, Gage. What the hell were you thinking?”“I wasn’t,” he shouts. “I was upset she wanted to stay, and I lost it.”Ethan scoffs. “Yeah, you did.”“I’m an idiot.”“Yeah, you are.”“Shut up.

If this is my final moment,” she says, “then I can die happy.”“Is that why you’re saying all this? Because you think we’re going to die?”“I don’t know,” she admits.“Dammit, Summer.” He clings to her waist, grip desperate, eyes heavy with torment. “You’re saying everything I want to hear, but I don’t know if I can trust it.

Time is a thief. A killer. Time is killing him.

Her mum is leaning against the wall, arms crossed, when Summer exits. “Gage left from here a few minutes ago,” she says, tone neutral. “His hair was ruffled.” She gestures with her hand above her head.The haze Gage left Summer in vanishes. She frowns.Her mum sighs and steps forward. Smooths her daughter’s hair. “If he hurts you,” she says in a mild tone, “I’ll kill him.

Avery slides on his glasses and opens his eyes again. “Dammit!” he says again with more feeling. “Why does stuff like this keep happening?”“You say that as if it’s a bad thing,” Rob says, smirking.

A layer of fine powder coats his skin.“My lungs are turning to concrete,” Rob wheezes, hacking and spitting.“So are my eyes. How do I always get roped into these things?” Avery coughs and pats Rob’s back in sympathy. A poof of dust billows from the contact.

The night surrounds, breathes across her skin. They’re lost in the shadows of the moon.

He’s focused on something—or someone—over her shoulder.The harmonious warbling of the rainforest morphs into organized disarray, as if a primitive maestro has thrown conducting to the wind and let Mother Nature take over. Birds trill a warning as the breeze rustles the plant life. Wings flutter overhead. A crescendo of stridulation changes tempo, the insects seemingly performing a sonata as the rhythm shifts yet again.“What—who is it?” Summer asks in a strained whisper.His gaze lands on her, his brows furrowing. “The Forsaken.

He smiles at her before ever opening his eyes. The innocence in his face ensnares. Wraps her heart in a cocoon.They did this to him. The Society. Constructed that smile with malicious expectations. Now she must rip it off his face. Because she doesn’t deserve his love. Or Gage’s. This madness coils around her throat, darkening every inch of her soul.

Every Forsaken in a mile radius can probably hear you. You’re just asking for trouble if you two don’t stop whipping out the measuring stick.”“It’s his fault,” Avery snaps, pointing at Julian.“Shut up, ya wanker.”They start in on each other again. They yell as if they both have megaphones to their mouths, standing inches apart. Each vulgar insult is more illogical than the last.

You cannot thrive under the wrong stars, Kricket… the stars here are in opposition to you… can’t you feel it?… Let us take you home.

And he leans in, so carefully. Breathing and not breathing and hearts beating between us and he's so close, he's so close and I can't feel my legs anymore. I can't feel my fingers or the cold or the emptiness of this room because all I feel is him, everywhere, filling everything and he whispers"Please."He says, "Please don't shoot me for this.

Who would want to be the prey in a world full of hunters?

When you got captured, I didn't know..." He trailed off, had to chug whiskey before he could continue. "If it'd be like...""What?""Like it was with Clotile.""Oh, Jackson, no. I was okay. I'm unharmed.""Didn't know if I'd get there too late," he said with a shudder. Then he crossed over to me, until we stood toe-to-toe. "Evie, if you ever get taken from me again, you better know that I'll be coming for you." He cupped my face with a bloodstained hand. "So you stay the hell alive! You don't do like Clotile, you doan take that way out. You and me can get through anything, just give me a chance."--his voice broke lower "just give me a chance to get to you." He buried his face in my hair, inhaling deeply. "There is nothing that can happen to you that we can't get past."..."When you say we...?"He pulled back, gazing down at me, his eyes blazing. "I'm goan to lay it all out there for you. Laugh in my face--I don't care. But I'm goan to get this off my chest.""I won't laugh. I'm listening.""Evie, I've wanted you from the first time I saw you. Even when I hated you, I wanted you." He raked his fingers through his hair. "I got it bad, me." My heart felt like it'd stopped--so that I could hear him better."For as long as you've been looking down your nose at me, I've been craving you, an envie like I've never known.""I don't look down at you! I'm too busy looking up to you."..."The corners of his lips curled for an instant before he grew serious again. "You asked me if I had that phone with your pictures, if I'd looked at it. Damn right, I did! I saw you playing with a dog at the beach, and doing a crazy-ass flip off a high dive, and making faces for the camera. I learned about you"- his voice grew hoarse -"and I wanted more of you. To see you every day." With a humourless laugh, he admitted, "After the Flash, I was constantly sourcing ways to charge a goddamned phone--that would never make a call."I murmured, "I didn't know...I couldn't be sure.""It's you for me, peekon.

Evangeline," he sighed. "It ain't ever goan to be easy with you, is it?

A man of peace is guided by peace, but when that peace is threatened, he has a choice to either kneel down and die silently as it falls into chaos, or fight for it and not look back. ~ Ryan Mark, Author

Zane looks pensive, and then his lips twitch. “They say most girls end up marrying a guy just like their dad.”“Oh God … That’s so lame,” I say, spluttering as coffee dribbles down my chin. “I believe it’s a tried and tested theory,” he says, standing up and wiping my chin with the back of his hand. I jolt at his touch.“Now it’s a theory? I thought it was a saying? Next you’ll be telling me it’s a fact.” I flop back down on the couch.“Empirical evidence shows that sixty-eight percent of girls marry a guy who displays similar personality traits to her father ...” His voice trails off as I shake my head. “What?” he asks, his palms open and raised.“You really need to get out more. Where’d you glean that interesting nugget? The desperate men’s journal perhaps?

For the first time, with complete clarity and absolute conviction, I know I love him entirely with all that I have, everything I am, and who I’m going to be. Of course, I’ve told him before, but not like this, not with the fierce swelling of love and fervent determination that I feel ebbing and flowing inside me, as vital as the air I breathe. Before—when I said it—it was borne out of immaturity, or necessity, or maybe just plain old lust. Now I radiate with the veracity of my love and this newfound truth that we really are meant to be.

Well, as I see it, the only way to win is to play the game and beat everyone at it. And I mean, who’s to say you can’t make your own rules?” I say.“Spoken like a true outlaw,” Nicholas retorts.I smirk, a little guiltily. “I suppose. Thank goodness you went along with it. Anyone else would have refused to register me or left me to Master Douglas.” Shivers go up my spine.“Partners in crime.”I laugh at first, but then think about it. “That’s kind of sad.”“Or exciting.” He stares at me for a moment. “Well, speaking as your registrar, you need to get some rest.”“Are you ever going to let me have any fun?” I ask.“Not until the sun stops shining.”“Well, technically it goes down every night…” I say.“Not in this country.

Uncle Joe pulled the L.E.F. from his head and his side arm from his hip. “We don’t have five minutes.

A man without a footprint has no soul.

Uncle Joe pulled the L.E.F. from his head and his side arm from his hip.... “We don’t have five minutes.

The day the nation voted on whether I’d live or die, I woke up with a headache.

I love him, and he loves me. And being together makes even the little things better.

What’s your name?” I ask again. “Chris,” he says. “Chris Young.” I exhale dramatically, blowing my bangs out of my eyes. “I can take you,” I reply. “But if you try anything, I’ll shoot you right between the eyes. Seriously.” He almost smiles. “Yes, ma’am.

I’ve never been on a bike,” I say. “I mean, I’ve been on a bike but not a motorcycle.”“And why is that?” he asks. “Bugs. They get in your mouth, right? That’s just gross.” Chris makes a face.“If you ride around with your mouth hanging open, I assume that could be a possibility.

I don’t know how it happened. Nobody does. There are only theories, empty rhetoric and doomsday prophecies. None of them are right, but none of them are completely wrong, either. They all have a grain of truth. All I know is where I was and what I was doing when it happened.

The Devil's minions worked his treacherous plot through the hearts of men, possessing them, ruling them. These hounds of hell ran wild these days through their human hosts, working greater and greater abominations.

But he doesn't see what's so great about leaving your mark on things. You have a life and then it ends and you're dead. Living it is the point, not proving to other people that you were there. The whole thing is really just water pouring down a plughole, but that's absolutely fine. Standing water gets stagnant.

For the first time she realized she'd spent so much time mourning a world that had ended ages ago, hoping to resurrect it, that she'd never paid attention to what it was becoming. Or returning to again, now that it was unfettered. Where were the centaurs, she might have asked instead. Where were the gorgons, the furies, the giants and the gods?

The king who stepped into the ballroom wearing a green velvet robe and bejeweled crown was none other that the tiger-man who'd prowled through my nightmares and nearly every waking moment for the past two days. Chorda.

... You have to pull the feet to break the neck. They let the loved ones do it.

Let you alone! That's all very well, but how can I leave myself alone ? We need not to be let alone. We need to be really bothered once in a while. How long is it since you were really bothered? About something important, about something real?

That's one of our speculations, by the way. That the prior version of history that this one overwrote was horrible. Complete geopolitical mayhem; half of New York City is underwater. The United States is headed toward civil war, or ruled by an artificial-intelligence construct, or some such other thing. Real end-of-days stuff. That the instances of ourselves who existed in that history figured out what we have: that the invention of the causality violation device was the cause. That in that prior version of history, Rebecca did not die in a car accident. That she went back to the past on a mission, as a volunteer, well aware of her sacrifice.

Never take offense. Even if someone is robbing you blind, it’s usually nothing personal. Survival is a funny thing, and we all react differently to it. Some react to fear and forget to be human and humane, but that doesn’t mean they have malicious intentions. People have different boundaries, and I promise to respect yours, hon.

Oh, oh. My heart starts that quivering, fluttering thing it does whenever he hints at his desire for me. Lacing his fingers through mine, he moves to close the gap between us. I know he’s only holding my hand, but it’s the manner in which his fingers curl around mine, and the way his eyes bore into me that makes it seem much more intimate.

I won’t pressure you, Ari, but I’m not opposed to subtle acts of persuasion.

There’s a part of me that recognizes him on a cellular level, a part that seeks his comfort and solace, that feels more than comfortable in his arms. And when he stares at me with that deep penetrating gaze of his, my body reacts in all the right, and wrong, ways.

Heaviness coats my brain, and I’m surprised at the turn in our conversation; we’re getting into the deep stuff. “Right now, you and me? This feels like fate, if fate can be felt.

A twisted, pale figure writhing in agony, chest bare and hideous. Tight, rigid cords of sickly green veins webbed across the boy’s body and limbs, like ropes under his skin. Purplish bruises covered the kid, red hives, bloody scratches. His bloodshot eyes bulged, darting back and forth.

Why won’t you look at me?” she murmurs.He doesn’t speak, seemingly at a loss for words.“It’s my scars.” It comes out as barely a whisper.Horror spasms across his face. “What? No,” he says, a bit breathless. “You’re beautiful. All of you.

When the nurse leaves, Doctor Rose mouths, “Act like you’re in pain.” Then she mimics a painful expression in case Summer doesn’t understand. On the contrary, Summer’s an expert at interpreting body language and reading lips. It’s all thanks to her observant nature while enslaved on the Cosmos. Who else could tell that Peter’s discomfort is due to him wearing the same pair of underwear for a week straight? Ah, yes, she always knew when day six and seven approached. She watched the crew member with much amusement as he waddled, pulled wedgies, and scratched his bum relentlessly. Not that anyone else cared to know that little nugget of information.

James would only look for music composed and performed by humans. Nowadays people didn’t feel the need to learn to play musical instruments. And why would they, since the sounds they produced could be perfectly generated digitally. Human voices were sample recorded, then modified and remastered by artificial intelligence. Where did our creativity go?

There are ten abilities, but no one has more than one—except me. I’m different that way. I have…more.”“You mean you have all ten.”I shrug my shoulders and nod. “And you say you’re different, huh?”“I am. I’m the only one—at least the first one,” I add, remembering what Sir Theo suggested about me being a more evolved species. A smile drifts to my mouth but fades when I notice Max staring at me with such disinterest that I become embarrassed.“I see. So is it just you who likes to think you’re special or all the teens in your world?”“What is that supposed to mean?”“Forget it. I guess I’m just trying to figure you out.

When my stomach grumbled, I filled up on hamburgers, hot dogs, gyros, tacos, jerk chicken, pizza, and a side salad because I was watching my figure

Shitting fucking bastard! Fuck off you massive cockwank!’ - Misty Meanor, during a particularly stressful encounter.

Complete. What an awful word for an infected people, that final, animal stage that was the future of all of them. Chels swallowed, unsure what to say. “That’s…sad. I didn’t even know he was infected.”Semesz whispered, “He was just infected yesterday. We saw him last night, and he already had mouse whiskers and a tail.

I've got my own toilet." -- Grace Harper

We are gathered here to send our gratitude to Pinnacle Officer Wilcoxand FERTS, for our daily provision and protection from those who would seek to strike against our Vassals, our Fighters and our Internees.

Refusing to listen to him any longer, Julian backs up. “Whenever you realize working together is in Summer’s best interest, come find me, Boy Scout. Until then, I’ll just pretend you don’t exist.” Then he walks away.Gage glares at Julian’s retreating form. His hand scrapes through his hair as he fumes. A guttural roar of rage crawls up his throat, and he kicks the sand.Damn him and his stupid logic. He’s right. And Gage knows he’s right. But that doesn’t mean he has to like it.

I wrote Unwind for lots of reasons, and it poses questions about alot of subjects. To state it briefly, I wanted to point out how when peopletake intractable positions on an issue, and stick to extreme sides,sometimes the result is a compromise that is worse than either extreme. Imeant it as a wake up call to society -- and to point out that sometimes theproblem IS that we take sides on an issue, when a different sort of approachis needed. It's also to pose questions about what it means to be alive.Where does life begin, where does it end -- and point out that there is nosingle answer to these questions. The problem is people who think there aresimple answers. People who see things as simple black-and-whiteright-and-wrong are the type of people who will end up with a world like theworld in Unwind.

There has to be beauty left in the world, Julia," said Kiyu. "Otherwise we have nothing.

Not many people bothered to look for beauty beyond the greenhouses. They went about life with their heads down, just praying to get through the day, to feed themselves and their family. No one ever did anything to make it better.

I wanted to punch him and understand him at the same time.

What I always hate is when people call our movement a 'revolution'. For this to be a revolution, we would have to be opposing a standing government. Look around; there is no standing government.

They were like her rocks. Imperfect and surprising and maybe better in the long run than certainties. Chances, she thought, were life

Be happy. Be free. You have a universe inside you.

He’s a lovely guy, but there’s no spark between us whatsoever. It just goes to show, that even with all their fancy assessment tools, the government can’t legislate for chemistry.

Even if I did feel bad for Darian, I wouldn’t admit it. Siding with anyone who violates The Protectorate would make me Noncompliant. That would make me almost as corrupt as him. To side with those who violate The Protectorate is strictly forbidden and punishable by a week in the Terrorscape.

Nobody wants to be born a One. One’s have the shortest lifespan. They must turn themselves in to The Protectorate for termination at age twenty-five. If I were ever going to feel sympathy for Darian, it would be because of that. Knowing he’d die the youngest of all the citizens is probably what made Darian go mad.

Everyone has to die at some point, so the thought of passing on together while holding hands with my one true love has always sounded like an amazing fairy tale. It reminds me of the old Shakespearean play Romeo and Juliet, and of the powerful love they shared.

Without the Dreamscape, we can’t sleep.My parents remind me all the time about stories their parents told them, of how things were in the Manic Age. The time before our bodies were upgraded to sync with the amazing invention called the Dreamscape. Thirty-eight years ago, people actually had to fall asleep on their own and, sometimes, they would toss and turn for hours. My grandparents said when sleep, in its mercy, did come, it often brought with it horrible images I’ve heard people used to call nightmares.

Darian murdered them in cold blood. That’s a crime punishable with life in the Terrorscape, where you experience the worst nightmares imaginable.

There comes a time when a man must forgo familiarity and venture into uncertainty; risking obscurity, but also quite possibly… finding meaning.

The city is a plague… and I am the penicillin.

All utopias are dystopias. The term "dystopia" was coined by fools that believed a "utopia" can be functional.

Centrally planned economies are upended by out of control population. Their escape valve is eugenics.

The lucky ones died in the blasts. They were spared the fate of starvation, cannibalism, rape and slaughter. Where a man could be killed over half-eaten can of corn.

We have survived the death of our childhood. We are soldiers now, maybe the last soldiers who will ever fight, the Earth’s final and only hope, united as one in the spirit of vengeance.

The aftermath of bearing shackles is an exquisite devastation, fraught with the ravages of survival. Even though one is no longer held captive—be that from a person, a government, or one’s inner self—the scars are deeply engraved into one’s psyche, and there’s no remedy for the soul. Many have the misconception that freedom equals happiness forever and ever.That’s a wicked delusion.

Terror builds inside him. The reality that tonight will be his last leaves a sour taste in his mouth. The Tainted will eat him, or on a more terrifying note—if that’s even possible—maybe turn him into one of them. He’d rather die. But first, he’ll take as many of those bastards out as he can. He throws his pack into the throng and jerks the blade from his belt. With a thudding heart, he slices through them. Blood arcs over him, onto him.

Slowly, he lifts the flashlight. Her shorts are torn and frayed, her shirt ripped from chest to naval, exposing her black bra and dirty stomach. And then he raises the light so it reflects off her face, off the crimson tears streaming from the girl’s eyes. Her boney hands fly up to protect her face, and her head tilts sharply as she hisses.

Loyalty is the key to our survival. Without it, we are just like them.

If you survive, you've got to live with the guilt, and that's more difficult than looking someone in the eye and pulling the trigger. Trust me. I've done both.

Fear can cause blindness, said the girl with dark glasses, Never a truer word, that could not be truer, we were already blind the moment we turned blind, fear struck us blind, fear will keep us blind, Who is speaking, asked the doctor, A blind man, replied a voice, just a blind man, for that is all we have here.

Today was the day to win again, Javlei held his axe in hand he had killed many people with it he didn't care that he had blood on his hands. He had won the STEDFARST races every year so far by being ruthless butchering other racers as he went.

THE ELITES AND THE LESSERS, ONE LOOKS DOWN UPON THE OTHER.IF YOU'RE A ROAMER, YOU'RE NO LONGER PART OF THE ELITES.BECOMING A NEW-LESSER MAY SAVE YOU. IF ONLY FOR A LITTLE WHILE. THREE ISLANDS TWO COLLIDE THE THIRD IS A MYSTERY.

But they promised us everyone would return someday…when it was safe.” Her voice cracked at the end.“You’re being stupid again. Trusting in what they say.” Disdain dripped from his words like pus from an infected wound.

Sometimes it takes losing everything to see the truth in nothing, except love, honor, and death.

Welp I'm fucked, how am I meant to do that?! “Dilmore?

This doesn't feel right Agres...” Tria whispered “Nonsense!” Agres replied.

The scars are just something that happened to me. They aren't me. Not anymore.

At the last moment, Kellan swerved around him, quickly leaving the zombie behind. “Why didn't you just hit him?” Jayden asked, turning to look behind us as we sped away. I did, too. The zombie spun around as he immediately started to follow us. “I didn't want to mess up my paint job,” Kellan sarcastically replied as he turned on the street that would lead us to the store. “Plus, I just washed it.

I put my hand next to his shoulder on the door frame, not touching, but real close. “Look, Blondie. I’m not asking you to bottom, just to fucking navigate.

For the first time I had the best of both worlds--a mission to live for and a man to love.

My latest battle had nothing to do with The Company, the rebels, or any other faction. It was out-and-out warfare between my head and my heart. Keeping it cool during daylight, versus nighttime, when I unleashed my passion for him. ... Turned out the Wilderness was a lot more hostile than me.

So damn pigheaded. I’ve studied you, not to report you, Caspar, but because I want a relationship with you.

I’m wondering how long I have to deal with this bullshit before I can brief my troops. Oh, and I gotta feed my goldfish. Let’s get this straight, Blondie—”“Blondie?”“That’s an insult, not a pet name.

It doesn’t matter where I am, or who I’m with . . . God, Caspar. I’ve dreamed about being with you.

I’m thinking ahead, imagining what our lives together would be like once we’re free from this hell and allowed to live and let go. You know? Really let go of our pain and finally enjoy each other … you and me.

A shame. As promising as a sky full'a rainbows but as useful as a bag'a dirt.

Isolde took a swig. "It doesn't matter if you believe it or not. Your government just gave you two months to get knocked up." She held up the bottle, her face dull and red. "Cheers." "You better get your fill of the booze now, then," said Xochi. "You'll be drinking for two pretty soon.

Reunion will come.

He watches the sun out of the world and the stars into it and sometimes I wonder if he watches the sun come up again. Is it hard to sleep when you know you are almost at the end? Do you not want to miss a moment, even those that would otherwise seem dull and unremarkable?

Posterity will never hear of you. You will be lifted clean out from the stream of history. We shall turn you into gas and pour you into the stratosphere. Nothing will remain of you; not a name in a register, not a memory in a living brain. You will be annihilated in the past as well as in the future. You will never have existed.

Gage is waiting on the makeshift bed when she enters the room she’s been sleeping in. The small lantern in the corner barely lights his features. His shoulders are hunched, his hands clasped together before him, and when he looks up, his face is downcast. There are a number of reasons why he would look this way, but the worst possible thing comes to mind first.Someone is dead.

As he plods behind Cameron and Summer, he can’t help but stare at Summer’s exposed, glistening skin. His thoughts aren’t depraved or even mildly in the splasher. In fact, he focuses on the marks of cruelty crisscrossing her back, stomach, and shoulders. He trudges along, drenched, feet swollen, constantly searching for even a hint of a breeze, all while being forced to stare at the alarming network of burns traversing Summer’s delicate skin. This latticework of hate reveals a brutal truth—one he can scarcely comprehend. Yes, he’s glimpsed and felt her scars before, but this is the first time he’s really, truly seen the severity and extent of her life as a slave. With each step, he must digest the monstrosities of her past, leaving him utterly devastated.

The land will sink into the water, and then, the water will evaporate into the air, taking the sky with it. And all, but a tremor of what once was, will be gone. ~ Ichabod Everward, during the Fossil War.

The land will sink into the water, and then, the water will evaporate into the air, taking the sky with it. And all, but a tremor of what once was, will be gone." ~ Ichabod Everward, during the Fossil War.

There is no good or evil here, it all depends on what side you're standing. Nor is it about wrong or right, it's about surviving." Triven

If we keep punishing people for what their parents or their ancestors have done, the world as a whole can never move forward. Society will never grow.” -Triven

I want to be done with tears, and the day is too beautiful for them anyway. Nevertheless, I consider my tears for a moment, the idea of them, a link to the earth’s ancient origins. I’m comforted by the notion that I carry a bit of the sea within myself wherever I go. It’s nice to think that water is not such an exotic thing after all.

Ribbons! Long ones, short ones, ones for every mood." He does a little dance to the singsong rhythm. "Thin ones, thick ones, and ones to tie your shoes!

I remember thinking that I could disguise the way I am by somehow filtering my expression for the sake of juvenile social acceptance or I could say to the world, “Here I am, if you don’t like it, don’t clap.” -Boys of the Fatherless-

We are brilliant shades of light, we can not be contained"-Boys of the Fatherless-

There is a secret layer of humanity that lies just beneath the surface of man, a secret layer where our fears and insecurities hide, that when touched in this secret place men and woman are somehow liberated.

It feels so good to find out I mean everything to the person who means everything to me.

The greywastes was a basin overflowing with insanity, the very earth underneath me was only surviving because it was too mad to know it had died

My chest tightens to the point I fear my heart will suffocate from the pressure of it. Society's standards are the total opposite from how I was raised. The boy who I thought to be so strikingly handsome has less than a year of his life to live, my new friend only a few more months beyond that. Yet they are living these uneventful lives in which they don't think there is a reason for anything. Will I ever see my mother again, or is this how I will be forced to live the rest of my life, as well?

I pushed my over-taxed muscles even harder. I could already hear the sound of the heavy wheels that moved the doors into place. And I knew I was not going to make it . . .

All of us sit here at this conference and feel secure in our belief that we live in an era beyond this kind of…authoritarian regime change; but what sort of political climate do you think could potentially break apart our current stasis and deliver us back in time, so to speak?Thank you, I am gratified there has been so much interest in our little project. Gilead Studies languished for many years, I suppose those who had lived through those times did not want them resurrected for various reasons including what might have been done to them and what they themselves might have done. But at this distance, we can allow ourselves some perspective. It’s fortunate that is the last question as my voice is giving out. As to your question, in times of peace and plenty, it is hard to remember the conditions that have led to authoritarian regime changes in the past. And it is even harder to suppose that we ourselves would ever make such choices or allow them to be made. But when there is a perfect storm and collapse of the established order is in the works precipitated by environmental stresses that lead to food shortages, economic factors such as unrest due to unemployment, a social structure that is top heavy with too much wealth being concentrated among too few, then scapegoats are sought and blamed, fear is rampant, and there is pressure to trade what we think of as liberty for what we think of as safety. And, when the birth rate of any society is low enough to create an aging shrinking population, then commercial and military authorities will become alarmed. Their customer base and their recruitment base will be in jeopardy and there will be extreme pressure on women of childbearing age to make up the population deficit, thus our handmaid and her tale.

Democracy and tyranny are not distant relatives. They’re bedfellows.”-General John JamesCommandant, USMCDecember 11th, 2032

What’s with savage humans always wanting to cannibalize us?” Jaden asks as she runs past Summer to check for any more of the Tainted around the corner.“They want to suck your blood,” Rob says in a Romanian accent.Jaden snorts. Too bad humor won’t help them out of this mess.

What we are probably given is a mixture of truth and untruth. It's anybody's guess as to which part is which and how much there is of each.

...the end of the world hasn't granted the clumsiest among us any measure of grace.

I don't want to think about it, but I have to. Someone has to. I see the signs of spring and I weep...

After all this time, I know exactly where I belong. Here. With Edmond. And that's how I live now.

We are the dead . Our only true life is in the future. We shall take part in it as handfuls of dust and splinters of bone.

Country’s friggin’ dying, man, you have to triage the motherfucker.

In the first couple of weeks there were big piles of trash outside every house. All the stuff you couldn’t find another use for and couldn’t compost. Yogurt cups, torn trash bags, dirty diapers, hair-spray cans, paper towels. Sometimes you’d see a pile that was as high as your waist. Nathan said it was a purge, a cleanse. But you could just as well say that who we were went out with the empties. We will never get our selves back.