Quotes from Peter Darling

“Thats the trick of growing up. Nothing stays the same." Hook sounded oddly sympathetic. "You see the faults in everything. Including yourself.”
― Austin Chant, quote from Peter Darling

“What was the point of being himself if he had to be alone?”
― Austin Chant, quote from Peter Darling

“Dreamers are always welcome here, whatever their reasons.”
― Austin Chant, quote from Peter Darling

“Imagine having a well-cultivated pirate crew and established career as the terror of the seas, only to have some bloody ten-year-old show up claiming he's the spirit of youth and joy and your unholy nemesis, Oh, and he's rallied a bunch of other little boys to come and kill you.”
― Austin Chant, quote from Peter Darling

“The trousers were miles too long, even when Peter cuffed the legs. The socks bagged in the ankles, and the shirt and sweater were equally large. But when Peter finally managed to get the collars to lie right and glanced at the reflection he'd carved out of the dust on James's mirror, a shock went through him.
This was the face which had haunted him all his life, the one he had looked in the eye on the day he left the Darling house for the last time. The hair, messy and short, enthusiastically curling without the weight of his old braid to drag it down. The stubborn chin. The clear, sharp, sullen eyes full of everything he had never been allowed to be.
Peter ran his hands over himself slowly, breathing tentatively, feeling the weight of his chest under his shirt. He had given this body up. He had thought it belonged to Wendy, to the girl he wasn't. He had let his family make him believe that the only way he would ever be a boy was to be born again in a different shape, leaving everything of his body and history behind.
He breathed out and settled in the feeling of being himself, of being something whole.”
― Austin Chant, quote from Peter Darling

“Pan," Hook said. "You saved my life."
Peter didn't know what to say. He had gone back to rescue Hook so unthinkingly, so instinctually, that he was only now beginning to realize he had done it. He hadn't worried about a single thing besides protecting Hook.
He cast around for a reason—an excuse, not the real reason, which he already knew.
"I had to," he said finally. "If you'd died there, I wouldn't have been the one to defeat you."
Hook gave a low chuckle. "Your obsession is flattering, Pan. And I share it."
"Obsession?"
"Is that not what they call it," Hook said, "when two men can think of nothing but each other?"
Peter went still, feeling his ears go hot at the implication. Hook knew, he thought. Hook knew exactly what Peter had felt before, when Hook had pinned him down.
He sat there tongue-tied. The two of them didn't speak for some time, until the kraken's last cringing wails had receded and there was no sound but the shiver of the leaves.
"Thank you," Hook said eventually. "I suppose I should have led with that.”
― Austin Chant, quote from Peter Darling

“He bit his lip, struggling to make words out of the war waging itself in his chest.
"I don't know what this makes me," he managed at last.
Hook laughed, not unkindly. "It makes you whatever you want it to make you.”
― Austin Chant, quote from Peter Darling

“Peter rubbed his hands together against the cold, shuddering and willing himself not to cry. It was exactly as it had been ten years ago. He'd realized as a boy that Neverland was empty, that the Lost Boys who so resembled his brothers weren't really John and Michael, and then he'd known it wasn't worth it to stay. What was the point of being himself if he had to be alone?”
― Austin Chant, quote from Peter Darling

“Peter lifted his head. Hook's hair was tangled around his face like a lion's mane and his eyes were painfully clear, all teasing and mirth gone from his mouth.
He took Peter's chin in his hand, his fingers calloused but gentle, and kissed him.
Everything in the world grew quiet and Peter's body grew loud. The caress of Hook's fingertips under his chin made his pulse catch, his throat flushing, shoulders tightening. He could only seem to breathe in, breathe Hook in deeper. Hook's lips were dry, and he tasted like salt and sweet wine. He smelled like gunpowder and the sea and he was everywhere, shifting closer across the leaves, his other arm snaking around Peter's waist, the iron claw pressed flat between his shoulder blades.
Peter dug his fingers into fistfuls of earth, trying to ground himself as Hook pulled them together, tipping Peter's head back with the gentle thrust of his kiss, a momentum that threatened to tilt them both to the ground. Peter was impossibly hot, hot to his fingertips and toes and his skin was crawling with the need to be touched, the shock of that need.
Sweat caught at the back of his shirt. His skin was stark canvas begging for ink, and Hook's touch was going to stain him forever. It was too much, too sudden. Peter recoiled, yanking a knife from his boot and holding it between them. He didn't mean it as a threat, just a way to make distance where none had been.”
― Austin Chant, quote from Peter Darling

“Not everything is your truth," she said tersely. "Some things are just true.”
― Austin Chant, quote from Peter Darling

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“Without screaming or weeping these people undressed, stood around in family groups, kissed each other, said farewells and waited for a sign from another S.S. man, who stood near the pit, also with a whip in his hand. During the fifteen minutes that I stood near the pit I heard no complaint or plea for mercy… An old woman with snow-white hair was holding a one-year-old child in her arms and singing to it and tickling it. The child was cooing with delight. The parents were looking on with tears in their eyes. The father was holding the hand of a boy about 10 years old and speaking to him softly; the boy was fighting his tears. The father pointed to the sky, stroked his head and seemed to explain something to him. At that moment the S.S. man at the pit shouted something to his comrade. The latter counted off about twenty persons and instructed them to go behind the earth mound… I well remember a girl, slim and with black hair, who, as she passed close to me, pointed to herself and said: “twenty-three years old.” I walked around the mound and found myself confronted by a tremendous grave. People were closely wedged together and lying on top of each other so that only their heads were visible. Nearly all had blood running over their shoulders from their heads. Some of the people were still moving. Some were lifting their arms and turning their heads to show that they were still alive. The pit was already two-thirds full. I estimated that it contained about a thousand people. I looked for the man who did the shooting. He was an S.S. man, who sat at the edge of the narrow end of the pit, his feet dangling into the pit. He had a tommy gun on his knees and was smoking a cigarette. The people, completely naked, went down some steps and clambered over the heads of the people lying there to the place to which the S.S. man directed them. They lay down in front of the dead or wounded people; some caressed those who were still alive and spoke to them in a low voice. Then I heard a series of shots. I looked into the pit and saw that the bodies were twitching or the heads lying already motionless on top of the bodies that lay beneath them. Blood was running from their necks. The next batch was approaching already. They went down into the pit, lined themselves up against the previous victims and were shot. And so it went, batch after batch. The next morning the German engineer returned to the site. I saw about thirty naked people lying near the pit. Some of them were still alive… Later the Jews still alive were ordered to throw the corpses into the pit. Then they themselves had to lie down in this to be shot in the neck… I swear before God that this is the absolute truth.47”
― William L. Shirer, quote from The Rise and Fall of the Third Reich: A History of Nazi Germany

“I was twenty then. What the hell, I used to say, take your time, Bandini. You got ten years to write a book, so take it easy, get out and learn about life, walk the streets. That’s your trouble: your ignorance of life.”
― John Fante, quote from Ask the Dust

“Safety is all well and good: I prefer freedom.”
― E.B. White, quote from The Trumpet of the Swan

“I believe in God,” he said, truthfully but weakly. “It’s easy to say that,” she said, her words still slow and soft. “And I don’t doubt you. But saying is one thing, living is another matter.”
― John Grisham, quote from The Testament

“What luck. I chose the douche-y sounding one.”
― Kendare Blake, quote from Anna Dressed in Blood

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