Pseudonymous Bosch · 385 pages
Rating: (21K votes)
“Very little in this world makes sense.”
“I ate him," said the homunculus, biting into his sausage.
The kids couldn't hide their looks of horror.
He smiled, sausage juice running down his chin. "Oh, don't worry - I cooked him first. I'm not a barbarian.”
“Oh, talking is not so bad as that," said the Jester. "True, most people say only silly things when they speak. But it's easier to ignore them if you're saying silly things yourself.”
“Veronica ran out to tell Amber the shocking news - and returned in less than a minute with another message for Yo-Yoji: "Amber says she was watching and she knows you got in detention on purpose," she said breathlessly. "Because you have a crush on Cass!"
Cass's ears instantly turned red.
Max-Ernest looked like he'd been hit by a truck.”
“When I was younger, I loved graveyards. They weren't spooky so much as mysterious. Each tombstone another story to uncover. Another life to learn about.
Now that I'm older - I won't say how old - I hate graveyards. The only life - or rather death - I see in the tombstones is my own.”
“I HAVE A SECRET I CAN’T TELL NOR INK;
THOUGH IT HAS NO SCENT, IT DOES OFTEN STINK.
THOUGH IT MAKES NO SOUND, IT CAN MAKE YOU ROAR;
WHEN IT’S TASTELESS, I LIKE IT ALL THE MORE.
THOUGH IT HAS NO SHADE, IT LACKS NOT COLOR;
THOUGH IT HAS NO SHAPE, NO CAUSE FOR DOLOR.
IF YOU THINK YOU KNOW IT, YOU’RE INCORRECT,
AND FROM YOU THE SECRET I WILL PROTECT.
THE SECRET OF LIFE IS NOT STONE NOR CENTS,
FOR THE SECRET SENSE IS BUT A NONSENSE.”
“She hadn’t visited this spot in a few years, but when she was younger it had been a frequent hideout. She called it the Barbie Graveyard because it was where, one night when she was nine years old, she’d ceremoniously buried every single doll she had. She’d marked the site with a melted Barbie toaster. “They all died in an electrical fire,” she told her mother somberly. “I couldn’t save them.”
“Did you tell her?” “Tell her what?” “That you love her?”
“I'm here," he said into her ear, as the tears came faster. "Emma, I'm here with you now. Listen to me: I will always be here."Always, she thought. He said "always," but he had forgotten to say finally. Finally you are here. Thank God, finally at last.”
“Perfection is terrible, it cannot have children.”
“I turned back to my work and lifted the lid of the last crate.
I sat down. Hard. And stared.
It was filled with paper. Ink. Blank journals.
In one wonderful, horrible moment I knew that I was lost. Keir, Warlord, had taken me, claimed me, made me his warprize. But somewhere, somehow, he had managed to find a way into my heart as well.
How had this happened? I’d given myself to a barbarian, a ravaging, crazed warlord, expecting little more than abuse and dishonor at his hands. But this man had offered nothing but kindness and respect to me, his property. I knew this gift was by his hand, I’d not spoken to Sal about paper or ink, and she’d not understand its importance.
Could he care so much that he paid attention to this tiny detail?
Did he want me to be happy?”
“I 'ad a toy when I was little,' said Suzy. She frowned for a moment, then added, 'Can't remember what it was. It moved and made me laugh...”
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