1
" You're Nash's brother. And a grim reaper?" She blinked again, and I readied myself for hysterics, or fear, or laughter. But knowing emma, I should have known better. " So you, what? Kill people? Did you kill me that day in the gym?" She clenched the headrest, her expression an odd mix of anger, awe, and confusion. But there was no disbelief. She'd seen and heard enough of the bizarre following her own temporary death that Tod's admission obviously didn't come as that much of a surprise.Or maybe Nash's Influence was still affecting her a little." No," Tod shook his head firmly, but the corners of his mouth turned up in amusement. " I had nothing to do with that. I do kill people, then I reap their souls and take them to be recycled. But only people who are on my list." " So, you're not...dangerous?" His pouty grin deepened into something almost predatory, like the Tod I'd first met two months earlier. " Oh, I'm dangerous...." " Tod..." I warned, as Nash punched his brother in the arm, hard enough to actually hurt. " Just not to you," the reaper finished, shrugging at Emma. " I see you all the time, but you've never seen me, because Kaylee said if I got too close to you, I'd suffer eternity without my balls." " Jeez, Tod!" I shouted, my anger threatening to boil over and scald us all.The reaper leaned closer to Emma and spoke in a stage whisper. " She's not as scary as she thinks she is, but I respect her intent. "
4
" I should point out, creating one's own style, as much as is required to illustrate one of the aspects, the golden seam of language, involves beginning again at once, in a different manner, adopting the guise of a pupil when one risked becoming pedantic - thus by a shrugging of one's shoulders, disconcerting some with their genuflecting stance, and immortalizing oneself in multiple, impersonal, or even anonymous forms in response to the gesture of arms raised in stupefaction. "
― Stéphane Mallarmé , Mallarmé in Prose
6
" You know it’s true.”
“Even if it is,” I cried, “what does it matter? You could sleep with anybody, Wesley. So what if I walk away? So what if I have feelings for you? I was just a screw to you! You would never actually commit to me. You could never commit to anyone, but especially not to Duffy. You don’t even find me attractive.”
“Bullshit,” he growled, his eyes on my face as he moved closer to me again.
He was so close. My back was pressed to the wall, and Wesley stood only inches away. It had only been a week, but it felt like ages since we’d been in this kind of proximity. A shiver ran up my spine as I remembered the way his hands felt on me. The way he’d always made me feel wanted, even if he had called me the Duff. Did he? Did he find me attractive despite the nickname? How? Why?
“Then why would you call me that?” I whispered. “Do you know how much it hurts? Every time you call me Duffy, do you know how shitty it makes me feel?”
Wesley looked surprised. “What?”
“Every time you call me that,” I said, “you’re telling me how little you think of me. How ugly I am. God, how can you possibly find me attractive when you put me down all the time.” I hissed the last words through gritted teeth.
“I didn’t-” His eyes fell, staring at his shoes for a moment. I could tell he felt guilty. “Bianca, I’m sorry.” He looked into my eyes again. “I didn’t mean-” His hand reached out to touch me.
“Don’t,” I snapped, shrugging away from him. I slid to the side and stepped away from the wall. I wasn’t going to be cornered. I wasn’t going to let him have the power here. “Just stop, Wesley.”
It didn’t matter if some part of him found me attractive. That didn’t change things. I was just another girl he’d slept with. One among many.
“I didn’t mean anything to you,” I told him.
“Then why am I here?” he demanded, turning to face me again. “Why the hell am I here, Bianca? "
― Kody Keplinger , The DUFF: Designated Ugly Fat Friend (Hamilton High, #1)
7
" Life turns on small choices.
A last-minute decision to take a shortcut over a snowy pass.
A shrugging dismissal of the odd-looking man in the long coat standing off to one side.
A decision to postpone a physical exam till a less busy time.
A word spoken with the best intentions.
Looking back, after the lives are destroyed, the blood spilt, the families shattered, and even the courses of nations changed forever, the mistakes that started the doomsday clock ticking down often seem minor, even innocent-even virtuous. So easy to make.
David Eller would give anything-no, everything-to go back and undo those mistakes. But life does not give us that chance. Like everyone else, he has no choice but to dangle from the hand of that clock, trying in vain to pull them backward as they tick inexorably toward zero. "
― , The Missionary
8
" I like that,” Bree admitted. “It’s like…it’s never too late to change.” Her eyes met his, and she hoped he understood that she meant it for him as well as for herself. She wanted Alessandro to give in to the good she knew was in him and leave the Dardano family behind.
“I forgot about that. I feel rather ashamed of it now. Because of the things I’ve done. Then I was looking at this tiny creature here, and you’re going to think I’m mad but…every time I look at him, he looks different to me. He’s the same boy, but something in him is always changing. It’s not a physical thing that I can explain to you, but it’s…like…I don’t know,” Alessandro said shrugging and lowering his head. He sat on the bed next to her and stared at the incubator. The baby’s eyes were open, staring back, blinking slowly, sleepily.
“You’re seeing him become a person. Like all the parts of him are coming together and making this tiny person’s soul. He was one person in here,” Bree pointed to her stomach. “And now he’s changing on the outside so he can be a part of the world.”
“That’s it,” Alessandro nodded. “He’s a part of the world now. My world, in a completely different way than when he was inside of you. It’s like having two sons and watching them become one as a slow minute by minute process. He’s never going to stop changing. What he thinks and feels now is not going to be what he thinks and feels tomorrow or fifty years from now.”
“It’s the same for you,” Bree said, closing her fingers over his on the bed.
“I don’t want to forget that again, Brianna. I don’t ever want to forget that I can change.”
He looked so earnest that Bree couldn’t help bringing his hand to her lips. “Then don’t. "
― E. Jamie , The Vendetta (Blood Vows, #1)
