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1 " Hi!'The chirpy little voice greeted me with such energised enthusiasm it made me jump nearly a foot out of my seat. I turned around, expecting to see the usual cocky little Bezzer-in-training Tyler, who every once in a while enjoys pissing off as many people on the bus as possible, but to my surprise it was the scruffy little quiet Year 7 who sits at the front of the bus with his big orange hair bouncing around.'Hello,' I replied dubiously. (You can't assume that a kid isn't intending to give you grief just because he has ginger hair, not these days. What is the world coming to?) "
― Tom Clempson , One Seriously Messed-Up Week in the Otherwise Mundane and Uneventful Life of Jack Samsonite (Jack Samsonite, #1)
2 " What music do you like?” he asked between calls.“Cheery, chirpy pop.”Wincing, he pulled up a station that delivered exactly that. “You owe me.”“Come on”—she turned in her seat to face him once more—“it’s not that bad.”“I’m sorry? I can’t hear you past the sugar blocking my eardrums. "
― Nalini Singh , Secrets at Midnight (Psy-Changeling #12.5)
3 " Early Summer, loveliest season,The world is being colored in.While daylight lasts on the horizon,Sudden, throaty blackbirds sing.The dusty-colored cuckoo cuckoos." Welcome, summer" is what he says.Winter's unimaginable.The wood's a wickerwork of boughs.Summer means the river's shallow,Thirsty horses nose the pools.Long heather spreads out on bog pillows.White bog cotton droops in bloom.Swallows swerve and flicker up.Music starts behind the mountain.There's moss and a lush growth underfoot.Spongy marshland glugs and stutters.Bog banks shine like ravens' wings.The cuckoo keeps on calling welcome.The speckled fish jumps; and the strongSwift warrior is up and running.A little, jumpy, chirpy fellowHits the highest note there is;The lark sings out his clear tidings.Summer, shimmer, perfect days. "
