“Woman and children behind the lines!' he yelled, and all the girls jumped. Henry froze with his mouth open. 'Bang the drum slowly and ask not for whom the bell's ringing, for the answer's unfriendly!' He threw a fist in the air. 'Two years have my black ships sat before Troy, and today its gate shall open before the strength of my arm.' Dotty was laughing from the kitchen. Frank looked at his nephew. 'Henry, we play baseball tomorrow. Today we sack cities. Dots! Fetch me my tools! Down with the French! Once more into the breach, and fill the wall with our coward dead! Half a league! Half a league! Hey, batter, batter!'
Frank brought his fist down onto the table, spilling Anastasia's milk, and then he struck a pose with both arms above his head and his chin on his chest. The girls cheered and applauded. Aunt Dotty stepped back into the dining room carrying a red metal toolbox.”
“There is a bus station in Henry, but it isn't on Main Street. It's one block north - the town fathers hadn't wanted all the additional traffic. The station lost one-third of its roof to a tornado fifteen years ago. In the same summer, a bottle rocket brought the gift of fire to its restrooms. The damage has never been repaired, but the town council makes sure that the building is painted fresh every other year, and always the color of a swimming pool. There is never graffiti. Vandals would have to drive more than twenty miles to buy the spray paint.
Every once in a long while, a bus creeps into town and eases to a stop beside the mostly roofed, bright aqua station with the charred bathrooms. Henry is always glad to see a bus. Such treats are rare.”
“Frank sniffed. 'You know me well, wife. I thought those were in the
basement.'
'They were. You should have been an English teacher, Frank.'
'What are we going to do?' Henry asked.
'We're going to build a wooden horse, stick you inside it, and offer
it up as a gift,' Frank answered.
'Burn your bridges when you come to them,' Dotty said. She smiled at
Frank, picked up the empty plates, and walked back into the kitchen.
'Can we watch?' Henrietta asked.
'You,' Frank said, 'can go play in the barn, the yard, the fields, or
the ditches, so long as you are nowhere near the action. C'mon, Henry.'
The girls moaned and complained while Henry followed his uncle up the
stairs. At the top, they walked all the way around the landing until
they faced the very old, very wooden door to Grandfather's bedroom.
Uncle Frank set down his tools.
'Today is the day, Henry. I can feel it. I never told your aunt this,
but my favorite book's in there. I was reading it to your Grandfather
near the end. It's been due back at the library for awhile now, and
it'd be nice to be able to check something else out.”
“Anastasia reached the attic stairs, slowed down, and listened. She knew that the first step to asking about secrets is seeing how much you can find out by sneaking.”
“Henry flopped onto his bed, and his steam leaked slowly out. He began telling himself a story in his head. It was about how just and kind and understanding he was. It was about right he had been, how necessary his tone and word choice. It was about a girl who just didn't understand, who was completely ignorant. Then, for some reason, the narrator of the story included an incident in which Henry ha pushed an envelope into a strange place just to see what would happen. It hadn't even been an accident. The incident did not fit with the rest of the story, so Henry tried to ignored it. He couldn't ignore it, so he tried to explain it. Completely different things. The post office was obviously not dangerous. It was yellow. I just wanted to see what the mailman would do. The flashlight was stupid. I didn't shine a flashlight into the post office. She didn't even act sorry. I would have acted sorry. I always act sorry when people get upset. She didn't even care that I probably saved her life. She didn't know. She was unconscious. Oh, shut up.”
“Henry's in the cupbord,' Richard said. 'I opted to sit this one out. Would it be incovenient for me to stay?”
“Henry successfully kept his mind on the game, which might seem strange for a boy who slept beside a wall of magic. But baseball was as magical to him as a green, mossy mountain covered in ancient trees. What's more, baseball was a magic he could run around in and laugh about. While the magic of the cupboards was not necessarily good, the smell of leather mixed with dusty sweat and spitting and running through sparse grass after a small ball couldn't be anything else.”
“Boys should sleep in during the summer. I don’t know how else people expect them to grow.”
“It’s the dull knife that cuts you.”
“Frank, I ran into Gladys and Billy at the store yesterday. Do you know what he said to me?"
The girls went very quiet. Frank didn't look up.
"Hello?" he asked, and kept rubbing Henry's knife.
Dotty hit him with her rag. "He said that. And so did she. But the important part was when he said, 'Frank ever get that door open?' Do you know what I said? What I said was--Are you ready for this? I said, 'No,'"
"Ah" Frank said. He lifted Henry's knife up to his mouth and dabbed the blade with his tongue. "That's my honest wife. I appreciate you lookin' out for my dignity.”
“There were only two people alive who would recognize the wood in that door. One was a man living in a run-down apartment in a bad part of Orlando. He would have recognized it and then tried to find something strong to drink, because he very much wanted to believe that most of his childhood had not actually happened.”
“But if that was going to happen, it was going to happen whether or not he worried about it.”
“Let me understand you. Let me piece you together, hold you together. Let me help you to explain yourself.”
“Who’s Ikbar?” Ulf said. His brother turned away to hide a smirk. Gilan glanced at Hal curiously, saw he wasn’t planning to answer, so spoke in his place. “He was an Arridan demigod, I believe.” “Oh, don’t,” Hal said quietly. But it was too late. “And what did he do?” “Well, Ulf, I’m not sure that he did too much of anything,” Gilan said. “Just paraded round being a demigod.”
“من غير بلده فقد غير كل شئ فى حياته.”
“Everyone eats his words by himself although we’re all eating together. There’s no thought for the hunger of others, you can’t hunger together. Cabbage soup was our main food, but it mainly took the meat from our bones and the sanity from our minds. The hunger angel ran around in hysterics. He lost all proportion, growing more in a single day than grass in an entire summer or snow in an entire winter.”
“fiction is founded on truth... unless things did happen, people couldn't think of them.”
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