“Let yesterday be a map that guides your steps today, and tomorrow.” “The”
“This love you gave me… taught me, gifted me with… required me to.” “I”
“Kiss me.” His mouth erupted with a hunger at her desperate plea to really kiss her. And heavens, he did. He kissed the breath from her body until her being hummed at the passion and strength that was all hers beneath the layers of his black attire. He”
“Poe barely contained the burst of laughter at the look he gave, like a man having a fire hose shoved up his rectum. When”
“And if you need timber for a new home,” the second said. “I wood be honored. “ He boomed out a laugh. “I wood. Get it?” “Farewell”
“He stared at her perplexed. “I certainly created you very dense, didn’t I?”
“You are among all that has been scribbled. Whether written on paper, or written on the fabric of the mind, or even scribed upon the very skin of the universe via the breath of life. You are far from blind here. The story is already inside you. The words are all there, dancing to the choreography divined in them. The song is being sung, the picture has been painted. Heaven has ordained it, Hell has exploited it and Octava is the progeny of these great things. And you, dear Scribbler, are the conductor of that existence.” The”
“The bog? What is that again?” “Every province has one. The place where a character’s energy returns after they are no longer… alive.”
“she loathed writing about characters—hair color, type, eye color, body build, and last but not least, the dreaded clothing—all missing!”
“And the third secret about Evil… is its end game. It is, and always has been, to enter humanity, take gradual control of them, and lead them to eternal death. All… by their own free will. All… without them ever… knowing it.”
“Don’t’ pin this on me, Mr. Irresistible.”
“You misunderstand, Mr. Poe,” the man said, shaking his amazed head at him. “I,” he placed his hand on his chest, at which point Poe noted was unclothed beneath the coat, “do not need her love.” He held that same hand out to her. “I merely needed her… to be loved.” Poe”
“I wouldn’t call them unfinished,” Sabre said. “More like… brilliance on hold.”
“It’s that blasted Independent Province!” the fourth said. “It’s been chaos since they gained sovereignty. I’ve felt it in my roots since. A war is coming.”
“She shook her head. “A fantasy…” “Fantasy Romance,” Sabre added, winking at Poe.”
“He put his hands on his hips, putting his massive chest and Tarzan nipples on display.”
“But in Bill’s case, it zapped away, like the Scribbler had been struck in the head and fell upon the delete function.”
“she’d written in the other were dark. Very dark. And fictional, she reminded herself. It had all been very fictional. A safe means to live out the emotions she couldn’t. Process the evil. Had she known what she created was real in any fashion, she’d been much more… responsible. “Someone”
“It’s a dance,” he said. “What humans create is only half of it. The Tabard around Earth is preventing Scribbler’s of all art forms from realizing that they are, in fact, dancing with other realms in a divine expression of life. And death.”
“Gloating sack of fictional cellular miss-firings.”
“And these are the secrets Octava has strived for centuries to tell humankind.”
“She does seem a few chapters shy of a book!” Poe’s”
“Gloating sack of fictional cellular miss-firings. “Wow,”
“Ruin of Hell’s realm! You have been chosen as one of the Seven Sons of Zion.” “Hell!”
“It was the fifth son. Charlotte strained to see the form as Quasi’s voice rang out, “Sabre, Son of the Seventh Realm.” Charlotte”
“Valentine smoothed the hairs down, glaring at Poe. “It’s because my hair absorbs power. My whole body does.” he explained. But the angry mumbling tone he used to explain the comical picture made Poe laugh even more. And Sabre was full out laughing now too. Valentine”
“The infamous Jeramiah Poe,” the being said, sliding off the rock with a fluid grace. “Outlaw. Violator of ancient codes. Fugitive of the Gendarme…”
“The image of Jupiter, with its ribbons of white cloud, its mottled bands of salmon pink, and the Great Red Spot staring out like a baleful eye, hung steady on the flight-deck projection screen.”
“If one thing was perfectly, crystalline clear, it was that I could take care of myself. I just kept coming and coming and coming. I was what I was.”
“Nothing stays or holds or keeps where there is growth, he somehow perceived vaguely but truly. Great Caesar dead and turned to clay stopped no hole to keep the wind away. Dead Caesar was nothing but a tiresome bit of print in a book that schoolboys study for awhile and then forget. The Ambersons had passed, and the new people would pass, and the new people that came after them, and then the next new ones, and the next—and the next—”
“What are the present governments of Europe, but a scene of iniquity and oppression? What is that of England? Do not its own inhabitants say, It is a market where every man has his price, and where corruption is common traffic, at the expense of a deluded people? No wonder, then, that the French Revolution is traduced.”
“No, Michael, I do not trust you on a boat, I do not trust you on a goat. I do not trust you here. I do not trust you there. I do not trust you anywhere.”
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