“Hey, all the cool kids are sleeping with stuffed animals these days.”
“A school isn’t a school until Sophie tries to destroy it.”
“Fine, but you should at least have to write an epic poem in my honor. Here, I'll help you. "Ode to Keefe Sencen, that brave lovable nut. He may not have teal eyes, but he has a really cute,"
"KEEFE"!”
“Mr. Snuggles is always the best thing to see when you first wake up.”
“Sometimes things have to get worse before they get better.”
“Sooner or later you're going to have to solve the triangle. Or should we get real and call it a square?”
“Keefe?” she whispered. He smirked. “Did you miss me?”
“THAT’S MY BOX OF PRATTLES!”
“NOT ANYMORE!” “MOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM-REX STOLE MY CANDY!”
“DAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAD-BEX SMELLS LIKE DRAGON POOP!”
“SO DOES REX!” another voice added. “STAY OUT OF THIS, LEX!”
“The star only rises at Nightfall...”
“ I don't care. They tried to take my family from me, and I'm not going to sit back anymore. So you better find a way to get out now, Keefe. Before you get caught in the cross fire. ”
“I’m always serious, Foster. Especially when you think I’m teasing.”\”
“We shouldn’t pass judgment until we see how things play out. Actions never tell the whole story. Good can be done for the wrong reason. And bad can be misunderstood.”
“I should’ve just made something up and gotten the favor over with.” “You probably should have. But you didn’t, so . . . I win!” He shook his hair, flashing his most adorably confident smile, “And I gotta say, I kinda get why you hesitated with this. It’s a big decision. I mean, on the one hand, I could go for the obvious and make you share whatever secret you keep almost telling me.” Sophie’s mouth turned to sandpaper. “So that still freaks you out, huh? That might be proof that it needs to happen.” His eyes locked onto hers, refusing to let her look away. And when she swallowed, it was so loud, she was sure the entire world heard it. “Or,” he said. “We could skip the talking.” “And do what?” she asked, hating her voice for cracking. “Any ideas?” He was so close now, she could feel his breath warming her cheeks. He leaned a tiny bit closer and someone cleared his throat—very loudly.”
“It's all a rather dark shade of gray. But that's a color all of us are familiar with, aren't we?”
“Until he was right in front of her, his lips curling with the world’s saddest smile. “Back to nervous habits, huh?” he asked as he brushed a fallen eyelash off her cheek. “It’s been a rough few weeks,” she whispered. “Yeah. It really has.” He blew the eyelash away and she wondered if he’d made a wish—until she remembered that elves didn’t have silly superstitions like that. She”
“Keefe smeared his blood across the smooth panel. But a metallic click echoed through the dark instead. A lock clicking into place. Lady Gisela stepped back, shaking her hair out of her eyes. “Finally done.” The”
“Leave it to Niles Sparks to prank his pranking partner in the middle of a prank.”
“Venus of Eryx, from her mountain throne,
Saw Hades and clasped her swift-winged son, and said:
'Cupid, my child, my warrior, my power,
Take those sure shafts with which you conquer all,
And shoot your speedy arrows to the heart
Of the great god to whom the last lot fell
When the three realms were drawn. Your mastery
Subdues the gods of heaven and even Jove,
Subdues the ocean's deities and him,
Even him, who rules the ocean's deities.
Why should Hell lag behind? Why not there too
Extend your mother's empire and your own....?
Then Cupid, guided by his mother, opened
His quiver of all his thousand arrows
Selected one, the sharpest and the surest,
The arrow most obedient to the bow,
And bent the pliant horn against his knee
And shot the barbed shaft deep in Pluto's heart.”
“Felix looked as if he had been given some kind of caped weasel—part gift, part insult, part utter confusion. “Thank you, I think.”
“What is REAL?” asked the Rabbit one day, when they were lying side by side near the nursery fender, before Nana came to tidy the room. “Does it mean having things that buzz inside you and a stick-out handle?” “Real isn’t how you are made,” said the Skin Horse. “It’s a thing that happens to you. When a child loves you for a long, long time, not just to play with, but REALLY loves you, then you become Real.” “Does it hurt?” asked the Rabbit. “Sometimes,” said the Skin Horse, for he was always truthful. “When you are Real you don’t mind being hurt.” “Does it happen all at once, like being wound up,” he asked, “or bit by bit?” “It doesn’t happen all at once,” said the Skin Horse. “You become. It takes a long time. That’s why it doesn’t happen often to people who break easily, or have sharp edges, or who have to be carefully kept. Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in the joints and very shabby. But these things don’t matter at all, because once you are Real you can’t be ugly, except to people who don’t understand.”
“I’m sorry.” I know it’s the universal default, but the problem is, one’s first knee-jerk response when someone says “I’m sorry” is to say “It’s okay.” We are programmed from kindergarten, from the first time the inevitable snot-nosed kid knocks over our blocks, to forgive. And it’s not okay, it’s as far from okay as it can really get, but there you are, tricked by a sociolinguistic tic into affirming that it is.”
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