Chris Heimerdinger · 268 pages
Rating: (14.6K votes)
“Whoso should possess this land of promise, should serve him, the true and only God, or they should be swept off when the fullness of his wrath shall come upon them.”
“If it so be that they shall keep his commandments they shall be blessed upon the face of this land, and there shall be none to molest them, nor to take away the land of their inheritance, and they shall dwell safely forever.”
“Honor your father and your mother that your days may be long upon the land.”
“Though I’m old and blind, I promise to put up a worthy fight. Probably kill half of you. No matter how harmless I may seem, you better know the blood running in my veins is that of a Nephite.”
“Lamanite warriors love to interrupt any time a Nephite opens his mouth,”
“Nephites,” he added, “love to talk and find it particularly annoying to be quieted.”
“In memory of our God, our religion, and freedom, and our peace, our wives, and our children.”
“Miracles happen all the time, Dad. But it’s not likely you’ll know about ’em if you’re not where the Lord wants you to be, and doin’ what he wants you to do.”
“The stars, almost too many of them to be true, came forward so brightly that it was as if they were falling with the swiftness of the void.”
“The noise was deafening, and no one could have heard me anyway as I let out my own battle cry, which I figured was worth a shot. What the hell.
"I DON'T BELIEVE IN FAERIES!”
“That was the trouble. The land is too big out there, and after a while it starts to swallow you up. I reached a point when I couldn't take it anymore. All that bloody silence and emptiness. You try to find your bearings in it, but it's too big, the dimensions are too monstrous, and eventually, I don't know how else to put it, eventually it just stops being there. There's no world, no land, no nothing. It comes down to that, Fogg, in the end it's all a figment. The only place you exist is in your head.”
“She seemed like the type of woman who'd help you forget about your headache by setting your bed on fire.”
“Miles exhaled carefully, faint with rage and reminded grief. He does not know, he told himself. He cannot know... "Ivan, one of these days somebody is going to pull out a weapon and plug you, and you're going to die in bewilderment, crying, "What did I say? What did I say?"
"What did I say?" asked Ivan indignantly.”
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