“Flattery is nothing but attention without intention.”
“. . . I love the school uniform. You have great legs."
"Shut up!" I gasped. "I thought you were an old man!"
"Old soul. Young man. Big difference. . . ”
“There's hope until the last second.”
“My throat tightened when I noticed a small tattoo of an origami rose on his upper arm. . .
"Hey, Lenzi," he whispered, barely louder than the surf.
"Rose," I said as our lips met. "My name is Rose.”
“His hair was still wet, and he was in a black long-sleeved T-shirt and tattered blue jeans. His feet were bare. Casual. Comfortable. Gorgeous.”
“He rolled me under him to kiss me. It wasn't a gentle kiss like at the beach, or passionate kiss like the one that happened in his room. It was desperate. Desperate and hungry and sad.
A good-bye kiss.”
“Maybe you should mind your own business.'
'You are my business. My job. You are what I do.'
I whipped around to face him. 'Well if I'm your job, your fired. You creep me out.”
“I can just imagine the recruiting poster. 'Ghost whisperers wanted: no experience necessary. Death wish and masochistic tendencies a must.”
“You can stick to your immovable zero-tolerance rules, but I'm going to stick to the motto "There's hope until the last second'!”
“Alden seems like a very nice boy. The kind of boy I'd like to see you hanging out with." I almost laughed out loud. If she only knew! A reincarnated, soul-sharing lunatic. Ghost Boy---every mother's dream.”
“Wait, Alden. I really don't want to meet your friends dressed like this." "They're your friends too. And you look fantastic. I love the school uniform. You have great legs."
"Shut up!" I gasped. "I thought you were and old man!"
"Old soul. Young man. Big difference. It's okay, though; we're just friends, remember?”
“Hey, Lenzi ... my offer from a century ago still stands. If Alden doesn't treat you right, I'm here for you in any capacity, if you know what I mean.”
“Bogeymen or not, I was in love with Alden Thomas, regardless of what name I went by or what demon wanted me dead.”
“You need to talk to Alden about your feelings for him, Race said.
"You don't know anything about it. Mind your own business, Race."
You love him. I know. I'm in here. I feel your soul, Rose.”
“Alden walked me to the door and we stood outside uncomfortably---like it was the end of a first date. Was letting a host share your body and then chowing down on Chinese takeout a date? He was waiting for me to say good-bye, looking as nervous as I felt. Should I shake his hand or kiss him good night on the cheek? Maybe I should act like Spook and just lick his face.”
“This is a little too cozy, don't you think?" I remarked.
"Your absolutely right." He patted the drivers seat, "Come on, Spook. Three's a crowd." The dog jumped up onto the seat.”
“It was cold outside." Alden said as he pulled the chair out for me. "I thought Race was going to cry like a baby." Race laughed.
"You're the one who was whining about the wind," he teased.
"Being male, Im suprised either one of you had the good sence to come in out of the cold," Maddi said, pouring a tiny paper cup of ketchup on her hamburger.”
“Maddi glared at him. "Thats why your not built like Alden. French fries." Race laughed. "Id love to look like Alden. Hot female speakers would be falling all over themselves to be paired up with me, just like they did whith Alden when Rose...Lenzi was gone. You should've seen it, Lenzi. It was halarious." My insides gave a jealous churn.”
“As time went by, it mattered less and less that in 1969 a rocket went from Florida to the moon and men walked there. Good men. People's dads. Those were only events, scattered in time. Draw them close, rub them between thumb and finger till they look like larvae, soften like silk, distend to knot, to weave. It takes a village to kill a child.”
“Lev dig in i tanken att du finns i universum och att universum finns i dig. Om universum finns, finns du. Om du finns, finns universum. Det finns ingen födelse. Det finns ingen död.”
“I drive back into town with the two crinkly notes in my pocket and wonder if I could support a family this way, doomed to play dinner dances until I too have one foot in the grave. I shudder at the possibility, and think about poor Meg in her sickbed. What am I going to do? On the way back I pass a big roundabout at the end of the Coast Road. It is March, and the roundabout is covered in daffodils. I circle it twice, an idea forming in my head. I park in a nearby street. It is early morning and there is no one around. I check for police cars and head across the road to the roundabout. Half an hour later I let myself into Megan’s flat and slowly open her bedroom door. My arms are full of daffodils, maybe a hundred all told, their drooping yellow trumpets lighting up the entire room. Meg starts to cry, and so do I. The next morning our prayers are answered, but our relief is mixed with a subtle, unspoken regret.”
“It's astonishing what a number of churches and idiots there are in the world.”
“All the explanations proposed seem to be
only partly satisfactory. They range from massive climatic change to mammalian predation to the extinction of a plant with apparent laxative properties, in which case the dinosaurs died of constipation.”
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