“Letting yourself get hurt isn’t brave, love. Brave is protecting others from hurt.”
“You don’t understand the unbearable beauty of being you.”
“We're inches apart yet worlds away.”
“You're the most important thing in this universe. You; this vessel; the people of this planet; lovers, warriors, artists, leaders, dreams more numerous than stars. Each mind unique, each thought created for an instant and then broken apart to form new ones. You don't understand the unbearable beauty of being you.”
“He can’t take his eyes off the stars, but I can’t take mine off his face.”
“It's not that he's choosing me, a girl he met less than a month ago--he's choosing a world in which no one has to die.”
“He can’t take his eyes off the stars, but I can’t take mine off his face. I can see the stars reflected in his eyes, can see the wonder of it in the way his mouth opens but no sound comes out. His eyes, his face—they’re beautiful.”
“There are no stars, because there are never any stars here, only a thick darkness that rushes down her throat and into her heart. She dreams of drowning.”
“Life is pain. We are all in pain, all the time."
"There are other things this universe has to offer," says the creature, "Light, live, touch, sensation. The way you are all made of the same pieces; the same fragments of stardust and yet you are all so different.”
“You’ve ruined me,” she repeats, her voice quieting a little as it catches. “You’ve ruined me—you made me wake up. And now I can’t get rid of you.” Her voice surges again as I reach out, curling my hand around her arm, her skin flushed hot under my fingers. “You won’t leave me alone.”
“What do you know of souls and hearts and how they break here? You don't know me at all.”
“My breath catches, responding to an unfamiliar pull in my chest, an ache in my soul. I shouldn’t miss him, but I do; this boy who had every right to pull that trigger, and instead threw himself between me and death. This boy, the only one who believes I’m not what they say I am what I believed I was; a soldier without a soul, a girl with no heart to break. He’s the only one who’s proved me wrong.”
“What does it mean?” Flynn turns to gaze at me, eyes finally meeting mine.
I find myself smiling because I know exactly what it means. “It means the clouds are clearing on Avon.”
“The girl looks out the window, watching the gentle, familiar blue sky fade into darkness. The stars come out, slowly at first and then all together, diamond-bright, each one a new world to discover.
But no matter how long the girl looks, she feels nothing. Puzzled, she looks for the girl who wanted to be an explorer, the girl who wanted to learn deep-sea diving and mountain-climbing, the girl who wanted to travel the stars. But she can't find her. That girl died when her parents did, in a little shop in the slums of November. And now she has no soul left to shatter.
She closes the shade over the window.”
“Maybe we wouldn’t even like each other if we weren’t fighting for our lives every second of every day.”
“His eyes move to my lips, and I know he’s thinking the same thing; I can feel it in the way the air charges between us. I can almost taste him half an inch away, can feel the way the tiny hairs on my skin lift and reach for him like plants seeking the sunlight.”
“I don't have the luxury of dealing with his hormones- or mine, for that matter. What, did he think I was just going to melt into his arms? Start a tragic and dramatic tale of star-crossed lovers on a war-torn planet?”
“What, did he think I was just going to melt into his arms? Start a tragic and dramatic tale of star-crossed lovers on a war-torn planet?”
“She may be trained, but I'm fighting for my family, my home, my freedom. She's fighting for a goddamn paycheck.”
“Guys like this make me want to believe in God.”
“You think I want to be here with you?" I reply, my voice hoarse. "You think if you walked out right now, I'd chase you?"
She gazes back at me, her eyes a challenge. "Wouldn't you?"
"You know I would," I snap, surrendering. "And I have no idea why that's such a problem."
She jerks her arm free and backs up a step until she hits the door. "It's a problem because I'd let you!" she blurts. Then, after a harsh breath, she murmurs, "It's a problem because I'd want you to.”
“In the bar, the jukebox comes on. Molley must be trying to drown out the sounds of raised voices. I move toward her, unable to resist; her eyes are wet, her face flushed, and I can finally look at her, want her, let myself touch her without grief turning everything to ashes in my mouth.”
“But I'm struggling to convince myself that logic had anything to do with it.”
“His face is close to mine, his hand warm against my back through my shirt. Despite the smile on his lips, his gaze is so sad it feels like my heart is ripping in two, turning to ash as I look at him. He knows as well as I do that neither of us is leaving Avon alive if we touch down again. He’ll never see snow, and I’ll never teach him what skis are.”
“Flynn -I'm glad you ruined me."
Her voice stabs my heart, because I recognize that tone. I've heard it before. "Don't start with the good-byes”
“Flynn’s reaction is electric, for all he only moves an inch, straightening, gazed fixed on the sky overhead. Though his eyes are on the clouds, I can’t help but watch his silhouette in the darkness. The way his mouth is set, the hope and determination there—the strength of his shoulders, the energy in the way he gazes skyward. The breeze stirs his hair, and I find myself transfixed.”
“But this guy…this guy makes me pause. Makes me forget all of that. Dark, tumbly hair, thick brows, dangerously sweet eyes. Sensuous mouth, tiny smirk barely hidden at its corner. He’s got a poets mouth. Artistic, expressive.”
“It all threatens to well back up, the tangle of things I’m too exhausted to face. There’s only one thing I know with absolute certainty, and as I whisper her name and lean into her again, she lets me. Her hand leaves my chest and invites me in—she cups my cheeks as our lips meet, drawing me away from the frantic heat and toward something slower, something quiet. Something real.”
“this tug-of-war between wanting her, and just wanting her gone.”
“There is nothing in the world so easy to explain as failure - it is, after all, what everybody does all the time.”
“Winter is the season of alcoholism and despair.”
“I don’t like anything here at all.” said Frodo, “step or stone, breath or bone. Earth, air and water all seem accursed. But so our path is laid.”
“Yes, that’s so,” said Sam, “And we shouldn’t be here at all, if we’d known more about it before we started. But I suppose it’s often that way. The brave things in the old tales and songs, Mr. Frodo, adventures, as I used to call them. I used to think that they were things the wonderful folk of the stories went out and
looked for, because they wanted them, because they were exciting and life was a bit dull, a kind of a sport, as you might say. But that’s not the way of it with the tales that really mattered, or the ones that stay in the mind. Folk seem to have been just landed in them, usually their paths were laid that way, as you put it. But I expect they had lots of chances, like us, of turning back, only they didn’t. And if they had, we shouldn’t know, because they’d have been forgotten. We hear about those as just went on, and not all to a good end, mind you; at least not to what folk inside a story and not outside it call a good end. You know, coming home, and finding things all right, though not quite the same; like old Mr Bilbo. But those aren’t always the best tales to hear, though they may be the best tales to get landed in! I wonder what sort of a tale we’ve fallen into?”
“I wonder,” said Frodo, “But I don’t know. And that’s the way of a real tale. Take any one that you’re fond of. You may know, or guess, what kind of a tale it is, happy-ending or sad-ending, but the people in it don’t know. And you don’t want them to.”
“We were king’s men, knights, and heroes . . . but some knights are dark and full of terror, my lady. War makes monsters of us all.”
“Are you saying you are monsters?”
“I am saying we are human. You are not the only one with wounds, Lady Brienne”
“This is the nature of war, whose stake is at once the game and the authority and the justification. Seen so, war is the truest form of divination. It is the testing of one's will and the will of another within that larger will which because it binds them is therefore forced to select. War is the ultimate game because war is at last a forcing of the unity of existence.War is god.”
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