41
" Xas sighed. " But I don't want to talk about God. Why do I? Sometimes I feel God is all over me like a pollen and I go about pollinating things with God." Sobran opened his eyes and Xas smiled at him. Soban said, " I did think that you talked about God to persuade me you weren't evil. But I've decided that, for you, everything is somehow to the glory of God, whether you like it or not." " I feel that, yes. My imagination was first formed in God's glory. But I think God didn't make the world, so I think my feelings are mistaken." This was the heresy for which Xas was thrown out of Heaven. Sobran was happy it had finally appeared. It was like a clearing. Sobran could almost see this clearing - a silent, sunny, green space into which not a thing was falling, not even the call of a cuckoo. Xas thought the world was like this, an empty clearing into which God had wandered. "
44
" Fiction is written with reality and reality is written with fiction. We can write fiction because there is reality and we can write reality because there is fiction; everything we consider today to be myth and legend, our ancestors believed to be history and everything in our history includes myths and legends. Before the splendid modern-day mind was formed our cultures and civilizations were conceived in the wombs of, and born of, what we identify today as " fiction, unreality, myth, legend, fantasy, folklore, imaginations, fabrications and tall tales." And in our suddenly realized glory of all our modern-day " advancements" we somehow fail to ask ourselves the question " Who designated myths and legends as unreality? " But I ask myself this question because who decided that he was spectacular enough to stand up and say to our ancestors " You were all stupid and disillusioned and imagining things" and then why did we all decide to believe this person? There are many realities not just one. There is a truth that goes far beyond what we are told today to believe in. And we find that truth when we are brave enough to break away from what keeps everybody else feeling comfortable. Your reality is what you believe in. And nobody should be able to tell you to believe otherwise. "
53
" I slipped in and out of consciousness as time stretched and flowed around me. Dreams and reality blurred, but I liked the dreams better. Noah was in them.
I dreamed of us, walking hand in hand down a crowded street in the middle of the day. We were in New York. I was in no rush—I could walk with him forever—but Noah was. He pulled me alongside him, strong and determined and not smiling. Not today.
We wove among the people, somehow not touching a single one. The trees were green and blossoming. It was spring, almost summer. A strong wind shook a few steadfast flowers off of the branches and into our path. We ignored them.
Noah led me into Central Park. It was teeming with human life. Bright colored picnic blankets burst across the lawn, the pale, outstretched forms of people wriggling over them like worms in fruit. We passed the reservoir, the sun reflecting off its surface, and then the crowd began to thicken.
They funneled into a throbbing mass as we strode up a hill, over and through. Until we could see them all below us, angry and electric. Noah reached into his bag. He pulled out the little cloth doll, my grandmother’s. The one we burned. "
― Michelle Hodkin , The Retribution of Mara Dyer (Mara Dyer, #3)
57
" ...a small part of me that worried that Tori wouldn’t be here when I arrived, that I pushed her too far, too fast, that somehow I read her wrong and asked her for more than she was willing to give.
But she’s here. She’s magnificent. And she’s mine.
That thought steals the air from my lungs. Her shoulders tense at my gasp, when she realizes she’s no longer alone.
“Hello, beautiful,” my voice husky. I drop my bags by the door and swiftly cross the room.
I only have a split second to take in how devastating she looks in her blue gown. I don’t know who moves first, but she’s in my arms as my lips descend on hers. With that first contact, the knot of tension that’s taken up residence between my shoulder blades releases, and I finally feel like I can breathe fully for the first time since I left for Los Angeles. "
― D.L. Hess , Sir: The Awakening (The Awakening Series Book 2)