“White for light. White for love. White for forever.”
“Never trust a shiny surface. They hide a multitude of flaws.”
“Wait--we have one left," the runner said, bringing out what was surely the most expensive bouquet of all: a three-foot tall arrangement of two hundred white roses, in the palest ivory color. All the girls swooned. Almost no boys bought white roses ever. It was a big sign of commitment. But this one practically trumpeted a captured heart.
The runner set the bouquet in front of Schuyler.
Mimi raised an eyebrow. She had always won the roses lottery. What was this all about?
For me?" Schuyler asked, awestruck by the size of the thing.
She took the card from the tallest stem.
For Schuyler, who doesn't like love stories." It was not signed.”
“A brain with no heart and no reasoning ... well, nothing is more meaningless.”
“One should not seek those who do not wish to be found.”
“Every Valentine's Day, the student council sponsered a holiday fundraiser by selling roses that would be delievered in class. The roses came in four colors:white, yellow, red, pink, and the subtleties of thier meaning were parsed and analyzed by the female population to no end. Mimi had always understood it thus:white for love, yellow for friendship, red for passion, and pink for a secret crush.”
“The rose fell into his lap, and he looked up, startled. Mimi grinned.
"Hey handsom" Mimi sent.
"What's up?" Jack replied, without speaking.
"Just thinking of you."
Jack's smile deepened, and he threw the rose back at her so that it landed in her lap. Mimi tucked it behind her ear and fluttered her eyelashes appreciatively.”
“A mind is like a puzzle; you must unlock it to read its hidden secrets.”
“That morning, she had found an envelope stuffed into her locker. It was from the Mercer Hotel, and held a plastic door key for their suite. "See you there tonight," Oliver had written. "Chomp! Chomp!”
“You may be to call up the entire encyclopedia, but a brain with no heart and no reasoning .. well, nothing is more meaningless.”
“But for Jack, the sight of Schuyler Van Alen had only served to ignite a feeling he had been repressing for months.”
“Mimi knew now what she had to do. To save their bond, to save themselves. She had to destroy Schuyler Van Alen.”
“Choice,” Charles cursed. “A romantic notion, but nothing more.”
“I love you, you know," Mimi said. "You make me crazy, but God help me Jack, I do."
"I love you too," he replied.”
“She had to be honest. And this was where the truth hurt. She wanted to see Jack Force again. But it was agony”
“It's not you she hates, Schuyler. It's me. She just turned her anger outward because she couldn't bring herself to hate whom she loves.”
“Don't," she said to her brother.
"What?"
"Don't act like I'm dead already. I, for one, am not giving up.”
“I give myself to you." she whispered.
"No. Not yet," he sighed.
"If not now, when?"... "Time might be running out for me. For us.”
“The stone is called the Rose of Lucifer, or Lucifer’s Bane,” the senator explained with a smile. “Have you heard the story?”
“known,” Dani said miserably. “She hangs here. Likes Chester’s. I been hunting her. Guess she knew it. Ow!” She touched her mouth. Her lips were cracked, oozing. It looked as if her teeth were about to start falling out. Tears stung my eyes. I slammed my palms into the frozen Gray Woman. ”
“Everything begins and ends at exactly the right time and place.”
“Wasn't that wonderful?"
Breathing hard, Celeana didn't say anything as she punched Ansel so hard in the face that the girl went flying off her horse and tumbled onto the sand. Ansel just clutched her jaw and laughed.”
“They're all gone, my tribe is gone. Those blankets they gave us, infected with smallpox, have killed us. I'm the last, the very last, and I'm sick, too. So very sick. Hot. My fever burning so hot.
I have to take off my clothes, feel the cold air, splash water across my bare skin. And dance. I'll dance a Ghost Dance. I'll bring them back. Can you hear the drums? I can hear them, and it's my grandfather and grandmother singing. Can you hear them?
I dance one step and my sister rises from the ash. I dance another and a buffalo crashes down from the sky onto a log cabin in Nebraska. With every step, an Indian rises. With every other step, a buffalo falls.
I'm growing, too. My blisters heal, my muscles stretch, expand. My tribe dances behind me. At first they are no bigger than children. Then they begin to grow, larger than me, larger than the trees around us. The buffalo come to join us and their hooves shake the earth, knock all the white people from their beds, send their plates crashing to the floor.
We dance in circles growing larger and larger until we are standing on the shore, watching all the ships returning to Europe. All the white hands are waving good-bye and we continue to dance, dance until the ships fall off the horizon, dance until we are so tall and strong that the sun is nearly jealous. We dance that way.”
“You have to let people be who they want,” Terry said. “Even if it’s not what you want them to be.”
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