“I barely knew Sebastian. You knew him enough to suck face. ”
“Whatever it was, it was something you could dance to, or lie down on the floor, close your eyes, and weep to.”
“I glanced up into round black eyes, ringed in yellow, but in some small part I saw humanity there. Sadness. It blinked. "Made," it said quietly, almost ashamed.”
“I'm not some three-hundred-year-old pervert who kisses teenage girls, okay? I'm the same age as you. Born just like you.”
“Scared?" "You haven't lived until you go grave robbing.”
“Thanks to Bruce and Casey, I could operate six different firearms, drop a two-hundred-pound asshole to the floor in three seconds, and cuff a perp with one hand tied behind my back.
And they called it "family time.”
“I don't want blood to rule my life like it does some. Once you take it, it's like a drug." He stared out the window to the masked revelers in the courtyard. "Warm, rich, never enough."
I nodded, fidgeting with my mask. "Kind of like chocolate." I tried to hold in my grin. Casey always said I had a weird sense of humour that came at the oddest times.
He blinked before bursting into laughter. He had the nicest laugh and the most incredible smile I'd ever seen. It lit his grey eyes and sliced attractive little dimples into his cheeks. "Yeah. I guess it is like chocolate.”
“Finally, after we were soaked through, he lifted his head and stared down at me, his hands cupping my face. "I thought you'd tell me to f*** off, and you'd leave. I thought every word I spoke was the last time I'd see you."
"Please. I can deal. Do you have any idea how screwed up I am?"
His crooked smile transformed his face. "Yeah. I've got some idea."
My belly went warm again. Sebastian kissed me, his lips wet from the rain.”
“I don't know what you've been smoking, Henri, or what world you're living in, but no one tell us what to do.”
“Yes, tell us, Ari. Tell us what you have seen."
Athena.
Dead flowers and flashing emerald beads threaded through her tangled, upswept hair.
A hard swallow went down down my throat, followed by a tightening of every muscle I possessed. All the emotions of my vision boiled over, as fresh and furious as they'd been a few moments ago. "You should know, you petty piece of shit.”
“I was pretty sure I knew what I looked like: a cartoon hamster in the headlights.”
“I laughed in disbelief, the sharp sound rebounding down the corridor, the echo eventually replaced by the flat, continuous drip of water against stone. First vampires, witches, and shape-shifters. And now this.
This is what Alice must have felt like when she tumbled down the rabbit hole.”
“Josephine shrugged like it was tomatoes or tom-ah-toes.”
“Dear Net-Mail User [ EweR-635-78-2267-3 aSp]: Your mailbox has just been rifled by EmilyPost, an autonomous courtesy-worm chain program released in October 2036 by an anonymous group of net subscribers in western Alaska. [ ref: sequestered confession 592864-2376298.98634, deposited with Bank Leumi 10/23/36:20:34:21. Expiration-disclosure 10 years.] Under the civil disobedience sections of the Charter of Rio, we accept in advance the fines and penalties that will come due when our confession is released in 2046. However we feel that’s a small price to pay for the message brought to you by EmilyPost. In brief, dear friend, you are not a very polite person. EmilyPost’s syntax analysis subroutines show that a very high fraction of your Net exchanges are heated, vituperative, even obscene. Of course you enjoy free speech. But EmilyPost has been designed by people who are concerned about the recent trend toward excessive nastiness in some parts of the Net. EmilyPost homes in on folks like you and begins by asking them to please consider the advantages of politeness. For one thing, your credibility ratings would rise. (EmilyPost has checked your favorite bulletin boards, and finds your ratings aren’t high at all. Nobody is listening to you, sir!) Moreover, consider that courtesy can foster calm reason, turning shrill antagonism into useful debate and even consensus. We suggest introducing an automatic delay to your mail system. Communications are so fast these days, people seldom stop and think. Some Net users act like mental patients who shout out anything that comes to mind, rather than as functioning citizens with the human gift of tact. If you wish, you may use one of the public-domain delay programs included in this version of EmilyPost, free of charge. Of course, should you insist on continuing as before, disseminating nastiness in all directions, we have equipped EmilyPost with other options you’ll soon find out about…”
“They howled again, and Loghain raise his voice even further. 'Your prince is not here! But when he returns to us, we shall hand to him his stolen throne! Here at the River Dane is where the Dragon Age begins, my friends! Today they will hear us roar!”
“Life is subjective as far as memories are concerned. I mean, what pieces of your own life do you really remember? Some good times, some bad times definitely, but mostly you remember those times that really stand out, those times that define who you are as an individual. Now's the time my life flashes before me—flickering recollections, vacations, holidays, friendships, the moments that made a difference. Mostly I remember that weekend with Kaylee.”
“My life is better with you in it.”
“most likely because the majority of the receptionists have gone home, to a sick partner according to statistics, in the country with the shortest working hours in the world, the biggest health budget and the highest proportion of sick leave.”
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