“History is sacred—like a nature hike. ‘Leave only footprints, take only memories.”
“Some things, however, should happen in the correct order. Shoes go on after socks. Peanut butter is applied after the bread comes out of the toaster, not before. And grandchildren are born after their grandparents.”
“You cannot hide from your heart, Kate. It always finds you. And, sadly, I cannot hide from mine.”
“I was young and in love, and that rarely leads to wise decisions.”
“Do you have a lot of books?” I asked. Dad snorted as he slathered some cream cheese on his bagel. “Katherine’s collection puts Amazon to shame.”
“...religions that believe they have a lock on divine wisdom and a reserved seat in the VIP section of the hereafter.”
“So I sat at the kitchen table chopping the “holy trinity” of Creole cuisine—bell peppers, celery, and onions—”
“All major religions have rules against murder. If they didn’t, there would be few converts. Well, at least few converts that you’d want to be in the same room with. But that doesn’t mean that there aren’t plenty of people willing to kill in the name of their faith—that’s true of most religions.”
“Saul is a devout believer only in himself, and he was convinced that the religious faith of others, if manipulated skillfully, was an excellent path to the power he sought. He was studying religions of the world in order to pick up tips on how to build his own.”
“Having your existence completely erased has to qualify as a life-changing event, by anyone’s definition.”
“Prudence Katherine Pierce-Keller, time-traveling ninja.” “Oh, ho… funny.” I laughed and then faked an angry look. “Lawrence Alma Coleman the Third clearly likes to live dangerously.”
“Try not to think too badly of me as you read it. I was young and in love, and that rarely leads to wise decisions.”
“Not bad,” he said. “Chewy and sweet, too. They sell these in New York?”
I nodded, washing it down with lemonade. That wasn’t where Connor had bought it, but I was pretty sure they sold them in New York and pretty much anywhere else in the country, although definitely not in 1893. I wondered how much Kiernan knew about the CHRONOS key from his time on the Cyrist farm, and what his reaction would be if I told him he was eating something purchased by his great-grandson.”
“As I’m reading Katherine’s historical diaries, every now and then I’ll see a question that Katherine asked, like, ‘Who is the Infanta?’ or ‘What is a simoleon?’” “In SimCity, a simoleon is money,” Trey interjected.”
“holy trinity” of Creole cuisine—bell peppers, celery, and onions—while”
“The mistakes of one generation build upon the mistakes of the next and you get a society that no one really wanted.”
“Kiernan. I had a sudden memory of the small, scuffed-up shoe I’d seen just before I fell. He must have snatched the bracelet when the crowd gathered around me. If I managed to get out, I resolved to give him every last penny I had and cover his little face with kisses.”
“Miss Kate!” Kiernan exclaimed, pointing. “What happened to your toes?”
“What?” I glanced down, half expecting to see a leech or a cut or some other trauma, but there was nothing odd. “What are you talking about?”
“Your toenails. They’re all red—it looks like blood!”
“Oh,” I laughed. “That’s just nail polish. It’s chipped off in a few places.”
“It looks like paint.” Kiernan sniffed disapprovingly.
I sighed. This was one of the anachronisms that Katherine would probably have caught as I prepared to leave. Did young women paint their nails in the 1890s? Had nail polish even been invented yet? I had no clue.
“Well, it is paint, sort of,” I said.
“Me mom says…” He shook his head and fell silent.
“What does your mom say, Kiernan?” He didn’t answer. “No, really, I won’t be angry. What does she say?”
“She says only whores wear paint,” he said, staring down at the grass. “They usually wear it on their faces, though. I never even heard of painted toes.”
“And with that, he began walking at a rapid clip toward the Sixtieth Street station. Several members of the crowd I’d just pushed my way through came over to help me up, and one rather gallant gentleman, who was eighty if he was a day, tottered a few steps after Simon, shouting and shaking a fist in the air.”
“Slán go fóill, a stór mo chroí.”
“How much time is wasted today training children to perform a variety of skills that they not only will never use but would never even consider using?”
“Trey was singing softly to an old Belle and Sebastian song.”
“Katherine leaned forward, pushing the glowing”
“The Urban Simulation Team at UCLA has created a truly incredible online simulation of the 1893 Columbian Exposition that made me feel as though I’d actually strolled the sidewalks of the Wooded Island, toured the Palace of Fine Arts, and explored the Midway Plaisance.”
“The cake was sinfully decadent, dripping with chocolate, exactly the way a birthday cake should be.”
“humans have failed to protect the Planet, the Planet shall protect itself.”
“There’s a valid point somewhere beneath the layers of insanity. But most of the things you described are… incremental evils, if that makes sense. The mistakes of one generation build upon the mistakes of the next and you get a society that no one really wanted.”
“If you would be unloved and forgotten, be reasonable.”
“Tienes que hacer todo lo que te asuste, JR. Todo. No digo que pongas en peligro tu vida, pero todo lo demás, sí. Piensa en el miedo, decide ahora mismo vas a enfrentarte al miedo, porque el miedo va a ser la gran cuestión de tu vida, esto te lo aseguro. El miedo será el combustible de todos tus éxitos y la raíz de todos tus fracasos, y el dilema subyacente en todas las historias que te cuentes a ti mismo sobre ti mismo. ¿Y cuál es la única posibilidad que tienes de vencer el miedo? Ir con él. Pilotar a su lado. No pienses en el miedo como en el malo de la película. Piensa en el miedo como tu guía, en tu explorador de caminos”
“No tenía nada. Solo un deseo frenético de aferrarme a algo, a cualquier cosa que me mantuviera a flote en el desierto de mi existencia.”
“Though his father had told him stories about it happening, until that fateful afternoon, Gavin Blake had believed that love at first site didn’t exist.”
“Razor, calm down. Say hi to our new friends."
The gremlin, now perched on Keirran's arm, turned to stare at us with blazing green eyes and started crackling like a bad radio station.
"They can't understand you, Razor," Keiran said mildly. "English."
"Oh," said the gremlin. "Right." It grinned widely, baring a mouthful of sharp teeth that glowed neon-blue. "Hiiiiiiii.”
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