41
" Sam, I know you’re upset over what happened with you and Drake,” Astrid began.
“Upset?” Sam echoed the word with an ironic smirk.
“But that’s no excuse for you keeping secrets from us.”
“Yeah,” Howard said, “Don’t you know only Astrid is allowed to keep secrets?”
“Shut up, Howard,” Astrid snapped.
“Yeah, we get to lie because we’re the smart ones,” Howard said. “Not like all those idiots out there.”
Astrid turned her attention back to Sam. “This is not okay, Sam. The council has the responsibility. Not you alone.”
Sam looked like he could not care less about what she was saying. He looked almost beyond reach, indifferent to what was going on around him.
“Hey,” Astrid said. “We’re talking to you.”
That did it. His jaw clenched. His head snapped up. His eyes blazed. “Don’t push me. That wasn’t you with your skin whipped off and covered in blood. That was me. That was me who went down into that mine shaft to try to fight the gaiaphage.”
Astrid blinked. “No one is minimizing what you’ve done, Sam. You’re a hero. But at the same time—”
Sam was on his feet. “At the same time? At the same time you were here in town. Edilio had a bullet in his chest. Dekka was torn to pieces. I was trying not to scream from the…You and Albert and Howard, you weren’t there, were you?”
“I was busy standing up to Zil, trying to save Hunter’s life,” Astrid yelled.
“But it wasn’t you and your big words, was it? It was Orc who stopped Zil. And he was there because I sent him to rescue you. Me!” He stabbed a finger at his own chest, actually making what looked like painful impact. “Me! Me and Brianna and Dekka and Edilio! And poor Duck. "
― Michael Grant , Lies (Gone, #3)
51
" You will have noticed that my interpretation of The Trial as the account of a man who, at a certain point in his life, suddenly asks himself why he exists, and then considers various possible justifications for his existence until he is finally obliged to admit honestly to himself that there is no justification, corresponds to what I have said in the Preface to the Notes:
Every man, at every moment of his life, is engaged in a perfectly definite concrete situation in a world that he normally takes for granted. But it occasionally happens that he starts to think. He becomes aware, obscurely, that he is in perpetual contradiction with himself and with the world in which he exists.
The Trial describes what happens to a man when he starts to think: sooner or later he condemns himself as unjustified, and then despair begins (K.'s execution, the execution of hope, is the beginning of despair—henceforth he is a dead man, like Connolly and Camus and so many other intelligent Europeans, and do what he may he can never quite forget it). It is only at this point that the Buddha's Teaching begins to be intelligible. But it must be remembered that for Connolly and the others, death at the end of this life is the final death, and the hell of despair in which they live will come to an end in a few years' time—why, then, should they give up their distractions, when, if things get too bad, a bullet through their brain is enough? It is only when one understands that death at the end of this life is not the final end, that to follow the Buddha's Teaching is seen to be not a mere matter of choice but a matter of necessity. Europe does not know what it really means to despair. "
― Nanavira Thera
52
" If you leave without me, I’ll just follow you. You can’t stop me, Cassie. How are you going to stop me?”
I shrug helplessly, fighting back tears. “Shoot you, I guess.”
“Like you shot the Crucifix Soldier?”
The words hit me like a bullet between the shoulder blades. I whirl around and fling open the door. He flinches, but stands his ground.
“How do you know about him?” Of course, there’s only one way he could know. “You read my diary.”
“I didn’t think you were going to live.”
“Sorry to disappoint you.”
“I guess I wanted to know what happened—”
“You’re lucky I left the gun downstairs or I would shoot you right now. Do you know how creepy that makes me feel, knowing you read that? How much did you read?”
He lowers his eyes. A warm red blush spreads across his cheeks.
“You read all of it, didn’t you?” I’m totally embarrassed. I feel violated and ashamed. It’s ten times worse than when I first woke up in Val’s bed and realized he had seen me naked. That was just my body. This was my soul.
I punch him in the stomach. There’s no give at all; it’s like I hit a slab of concrete.
“I can’t believe you,” I shout. “You sat there—just sat there—while I lied about Ben Parish. You knew the truth and you just sat there and let me lie! "
― Rick Yancey , The 5th Wave (The 5th Wave, #1)
57
" God was still smiling when he went into the guest room for his suitcase. He looked in the closet and under the perfectly made bed. He even pulled out the drawers of the one armoire on the far side of the room, but couldn’t find it. He was about to go back downstairs and ask Day when he turned down the long hall and walked into Day’s master bedroom. His suitcase was tucked neatly in the corner. He pulled it out but immediately knew it was empty. He looked in the first dresser but those were Day’s clothes. The second identical dresser was on the other side and God did a double take at his few toiletries that were neatly aligned on top. God rubbed his hand on the smooth surface and felt his heart clench at how domestic this looked.
His and his dressers…really.
God yanked off his T-shirt and threw it in the hamper along with Day’s items. He washed up quickly and went back to his dresser to put on a clean shirt. His mouth dropped when he pulled out the dresser drawer. His shirts were neatly folded and placed in an organized arrangement. God went through all five drawers. His underwear, socks, shirts, sweats, all arranged neatly and in its own place.
He dropped down on the bed and thought for a minute. At first he was joking, but Day really was domesticating him. Was God ready for that? Sure he loved Day, he’d take a bullet for him, but was he ready to play house? He pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and middle finger at the slight tension forming behind his eyes. God had been completely on his own since he was eighteen. He’d never shared space with anyone—hell, no one had ever wanted to.
Fuck. Just last night Day was getting ready to fuck mini Justin Bieber, now he was cooking and cleaning for him and doing his damn laundry. He tried his best to shake off his anxiety. He never used the word love lightly. He meant what he’d said last night. God had only loved three people his entire life and for the past four years only one of them returned that love. Should he really tuck tail and run just because this was new territory? Hell no. All he did was unpack my suitcase. No big deal. He was just being hospitable. Damn sure is better than that seedy hotel. “My boyfriend’s just trying to make me comfortable.” He smirked and tried the term on his tongue again. “I have a boyfriend.”
“Get your ass down here and stop overthinking shit! Dinner is getting cold!” Day yelled from the bottom of the stairs. "
― A.E. Via
58
" Once they were gone, Syn lifted his head to look at his Lieutenants. He knew how close he’d been to putting a bullet in that bastard’s head, because all he kept picturing were that man’s hands wrapped around Furi’s throat. Syn hadn’t lost control in a long time, and he wondered what that meant. How deep did his feelings for Furi run?
“Go home,” Day said, clasping him on the shoulder. “We’ll handle the rogue bitch clan at the station.”
“I can do my job, Day,” Syn snapped back at his boss.
“We know that. We’ll let Sasha Pain; aka porn bitch sit on ice and interrogate her in the morning see if there’s any connection with this ex-husband and BTNS.” God gestured with his head. “Go check on your man, you know that’s where you want to be.”
Syn was taken aback. God said nothing about him dating a prior suspect in a case they were still working, or about dragging them into a back alley fight while he took his revenge. God was actually being compassionate. Well, damn. Syn was astonished to see that side of him.
“Besides, you won’t be worth shit to me with a hard on all night.”
And he’s back. Well, that compassion sure was short-lived. "
― A.E. Via
