“No one can know sincere happiness, Sophie, without first having known sorrow. One can never appreciate the enormity and rareness of such a fiery bliss without seeing misery, however unfair that may be.”
“The shortest distance between two points is the line from me to you.”
“Fear, Sadness. They're not weaknesses. They are overpowering, defining emotions. They make you human, Sophie.”
“Tell him he was my greatest adventure. Tell him I love him.”
“The truth is, I'm so deep in love with you, I can't see straight. The truth is, I've been afraid to admit it to myself, let alone you. The truth is, I'm terrified.”
“I was not staring at you,” he told his plate.
I leaned over. “Did you hear that, Dingane’s lunch? He was not staring at you.”
He looked up at me crossly. “I was not staring at you.”
“I never said you were.”
“I was merely explaining that Henry was exaggerating. I did not stare at you.”
“Okay,” I stated, implying in my tone that he had done just that.
“I didn’t. I-I wasn’t.”
“I believe you,” I told him
“I may have looked at you a few times to make sure you were doing your job.”
“Oh, I see then.”
“But I certainly wasn’t staring.”
“We’ve established that you were not staring.”
He breathed deeply a few times, his eyes burning into mine. “Good.”
He’d definitely been staring.”
“And what is there to be joyful about?" I asked honestly, thinking on the images of dead children curled into themselves at the village. Another burst of silent tears streamed down.
"Life, Sophie. They still live. They breathe, they love each other, they find joy in the world around them for no other reason than because they are children. They are resilient. They will always rise above. Always. It is a curious facet of the innocent young.”
“If we don’t make out of this alive, Sophie Price, I want you to know that I’ve never loved anyone as much as I love you. You’re it for me.”
“Vanity's a debilitating affliction. You’re so absorbed in yourself it’s impossible to love anyone other than oneself, leaving you weak without realization of it. It’s quite sad. You’ve no idea what you’re missing either. You will never know real love and your life will pas you by.”
“You are so gosh damn beautiful in here," he said, tapping my chest, "that what's here," he spoke, running the side of his hand down my face, "is magnified tenfold and that is a sight to be hold.”
“Their innocence is addicting, their hope is catching and I'm happy to be surrounded by them.”
“It’s the favorite part of my day.”
My eyes opened lazily. “What do you mean?” I whispered.
“When you undo them and run your hands throughout the waves. That’s my favorite part of the day.”
“You may have misery," she continued, ignoring my plea, "you may lose hope in the sorrow of an unplanned life but as long as you have faith and trust in adoration, in affection, in love, that sorrow will turn to happiness. And that is a constant, dear.”
“No need to flatter me, Miss Price. I believe your bait worked. I’m hooked. Line and sinker.”
“I wasn't crying for myself. I was crying for the innocents.”
“My god, he’s the one who gets the girls? What? Is he made of chocolate or something?”
“You've arrested my senses and I can't seem to get enough of you. That's what scares me. I'm so deep there's no getting out for me. You own me, you know?”
“Your heart is startingly beautiful, Sophie." - Ian”
“It was like my body knew instantly that he was mine and that I was his.”
“Note to self, Ian is happiest when in dangerous situations.”
“Men wanted me. They all did, however briefly, but none of them wanted to keep me. That's what I needed. I needed to be owned, loved. BUT NOT BY A MAN. I knew then that I never needed to be kept by a man. What I needed was to love myself, to want to keep myself around. And in that revelation, I knew that if I wanted to keep myself, that a man wanting to keep me would just be a by-product.”
“Fascinating,” I said, turning toward Ian. “You never told me Simon went to Oxford.”
“Simon went to Oxford, Sophie.”
“That girl was the real me. Frightened. Worthless. A terrible friend. Terrible daughter. Well educated but so limited in ideas worth having. Beautiful yet repulsive…
And finally honest.”
“Prepare yourself, Price, ‘cause I’m about to rock your world.”
“P.S. I'm going to throw an absolutely mind-blowing fact your way. I'm not kidding, either. The country of Uganda is obsessed with Celine Dion. They dedicate entire days to broadcasting her music. They love her that much. Five words. My. Heart. Will. Go. On. Yeah.”
“But they have life and faith and hope and love and they choose those things. Their innocence is addicting, their hope is catching and I'm happy to be surrounded by them”
“Stay with me”
“I don’t have a choice,” I told him.
“You do. Choose me, Soph.”
“I’d been kissed before, many times, but never like that.”
“One day you will blink and the haze will dissipate. You'�ll discover that what once defined you has wilted
into graying hair and wrinkled skin. Frantic, you�ll glance around yourself, in hopes of finding those you
swore adored you, but all you will find is empty picture frames.”
“I wasn’t different from most girls I knew. Well, except the fact I was exponentially better looking, but why beat a dead horse?”
“For the power of man to make himself what he pleases means, as we have seen, the power of some men to make other men what they please. —C. S. LEWIS, The Abolition of Man BY DEAN KOONTZ 77 Shadow Street • What the Night Knows • Breathless Relentless • Your Heart Belongs to Me The Darkest Evening of the Year • The Good Guy The Husband • Velocity • Life Expectancy The Taking • The Face • By the Light of the Moon One Door Away From Heaven • From the Corner of His Eye False Memory • Seize the Night • Fear Nothing”
“The last place I want to be is the hospital, but I'm not stupid. I know when it's time to go in. I am so terrified of myself and of the vast, frightening world, that the psych ward, with its safe locked doors, sounds like a relief.”
“Score one for Team Kendall, Payton thought.
Not that it was a competition between them.
Not at all.”
“She had no criticism of his dress, which was bagged at the knees, dropping at the lapels, rucked around the buttons, while she-although she wore a flowing white cotton-appeared (she knew it and wished it was not so) as starched and pressed as a Baptist in a riding habit.
They were different, and yet not ill matched.
They had both grown used to the attentions that are the eccentric’s lot-the covert glances, smiles, whispers, worse. Lucinda was accustomed to looking at no one in the street. It was an out-of-focus town of men with seas of bobbing hats.
But on this night she felt the streets accept them. She thought: When we are two, they do not notice us. They think us a match. What wisdom does a mob have? It is a hydra, an organism, stupid or dangerous in much of its behaviour, but could it have, in spite of this, a proper judgement about which of its component parts fit best together?
They pushed past bold-eyed young women with too many ribbons and jewels, past tight-laced maidens and complacent merchants with their bellies pushing so forcefully against their waistcoats that their shirts showed above their trousers. Lucinda was happy. Her arm rested on Oscar’s arm.
She thought: Anyone can see I have been crying. She thought: I have pink eyes like a dormouse. But she did not really care.”
“And then I saw it—not below, where I had looked, but over my head, a vast and noble curve stretching away to either side, with white cloud flying between ourselves and it, a world all speckled over with blue and green like the egg of a wild bird.”
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