1
" Kaladin screamed, reaching the end of the bridge. Finding a tiny surge of strength somewhere, he raised his spear and threw himself off the end of the wooden platform, launching into the air above the cavernous void.
Bridgemen cried out in dismay. Syl zipped about him with worry. Parshendi looked up with amazement as a lone bridgeman sailed through the air toward them.
His drained, worn-out body barely had any strength left. In that moment of crystallized time, he looked down on his enemies. Parshendi with their marbled red and black skin. Soldiers raising finely crafted weapons, as if to cut him from the sky. Strangers, oddities in carapace breastplates and skullcaps. Many of them wearing beards.
Beards woven with glowing gemstones.
Kaladin breathed in.
Like the power of salvation itself—like rays of sunlight from the eyes of the Almighty—Stormlight exploded from those gemstones. It streamed through the air, pulled in visible streams, like glowing columns of luminescent smoke. Twisting and turning and spiraling like tiny funnel clouds until they slammed into him.
And the storm came to life again. "
― Brandon Sanderson , The Way of Kings (The Stormlight Archive, #1)
4
" ...You see I believe in that stuff to: yoga and mystical powers. I once knew a man who could kill himself on command. Can you believe that? . . . Why do you laugh? . . . Believe it! By will of his own mind, he could make his heart stop beating for good' My neighbor poised and looked seriously at me, searching in my eyes. '...You laugh!' he repeated once more… 'You laugh, but he was a master at it! He could commit suicide at his own will!'
Indeed, hearty laughter streamed through my nose. 'Could he do it perpetually?' I asked.
'Perpetually...?' My neighbor rubbed his waxy chin.
'I mean, is he still able to do it?'
'I’m not sure I understand.'
'Well? Then is he dead…?!'
My neighbor's puzzled face slowly began to transform into a look of realization. 'But sir,' he said, 'Of course he’s dead! I mean to say... this man could kill himself on command, you see. And you don’t come back from the dead!'
The two of us found ourselves crossing to the door so I could let my visitor out. I slapped him with friendliness on the shoulder.
'No, you don’t come back from the dead,' I agreed. "
― Roman Payne
12
" I thought about the earth then, really thought about it, the tsunami's and earthquakes and volcanoes, all the horrors I haven't witnessed but have changed my life, the lives of everyone I know, all the people I'll never know. I thought about life without the sun, the moon, stars, without flowers and warm days in May. I thought about a year ago and all the good things I'd taken for granted and all the unbearable things that had replaced those simple blessings. And even though I hated the thought of crying in from of Syl, tears streamed down my face. "
― Susan Beth Pfeffer , This World We Live In (Last Survivors, #3)
13
" The place of horror turns out to be no more than a green scoop, sometimes shadowed, sometimes shining with the bilberries and grass within it, as if a mouth had opened from which streamed a beam of light. So my uncle Robert's death, which had looked from a distance to be an all-consuming tragedy was, close-up, the story of a man finding release from his pain and how his brother had showed such defiant love. The past was a grave, a trap - and yet, also neither of these. Just light, coming and going.
At the wolf pit you imagine you will stare into a hole littered with bones, but what draws you to that place is not what you take from it. The wolf pit seems a delicate illusion. You walk towards it; there is nothing, just a curve of the moor; then it is a soft green light, and then it is nothing again. "
― , The Wolf Pit: A Moorland Romance
14
" The boy knelt, shoulders bowed, on the sand in the grey of morning, moaning softly, fearfully. Glowing tendrils of energy streamed across the agitated sky, converging high above him in a vortex of brightness. He flung his hands heavenward and a sheet of blinding brilliance descended from the vortex. It enveloped him and from its core a pulsing sphere of light fell, entering his body and almost tearing him apart. He went rigid, screaming to shatter the heavens, his dark eyes bulging from their sockets, his mouth wide in a rictus of agony. Sirius exploded in a burst of silver-blue radiance, as his howl rose to a shriek beyond hearing and endurance. Out of the light and the sound and the anguish, two names imprinted themselves on his mind. One of them, he knew, was his own. The other floated for an instant above his consciousness like a fugitive white dove in the morning. "
18
" Encouragement, Love, HopeThere was a man that struggled with every step and walked each step with fear. As we all know when you walk and pave a path of fear, the steps slow down and the true light of faith dims. His family did, however, stand behind him. Though his steps were slow and not going far, his family followed covering each of those steps with encouragement and hope. As he kept walking and turned his head, the people who cared most weren't clear. His fear had taken over and there was uncertainty that slowed him down even further. The family that stands behind you is the one who gives you the push you need to keep going.The man was saddened with fear and started to sob. Mystery of the unknown was the overwhelming door he wasn't ready to open. His family followed right behind him, saying, " We are there for you, you are strong; you can make it through the toughest path with the strongest light of hope." It seemed he couldn't hear all that was said. It was as if he wasn't truly listening to the strongest words, but to the heavy negativity that kept drowning him in his fear. His steps slowed down even further. He cried some more and was shaken even more by the unknown that was ahead. It was that he didn't want to take a chance of what could come ahead, what could be the most enlightening and most life changing steps he could take to better himself in the future.His family still stood behind him with every step he took. Every time he looked back it was getting dimmer and dimmer, but they were still there. They spoke softly to him, " Everybody has risks in their lives, even obstacles they must over come. It will only make you stronger in the end, without risks in life, there is no chance." He didn't hear them speak; he heard it as if it was another language, something so far from understanding.The man found a bench and sat down. He was tired and didn't want to walk any further. His eyes filled with tears that streamed down his cheeks. His hands starting to cover his face, drowning in the fear that was overwhelming him. Again his loving family was there, but he couldn't see. They were around him with heart-filling encouragement and love, and best of all, that blessedness of hopeThe man lay down on the bench; his tears had soaked his cheeks and palms of his hands and fell asleep. When he awoke, his eyes slowly opened, trying to look around, finding that he was in an unfamiliar place. His vision was a bit fuzzy. He looked down and started to realize he wasn't on the bench anymore.He saw his legs and started to look up further; he was in a hospital gown. The man's eyes grew even more confused. He stood there in silence as his head slowly tilted up. He didn't understand why here was there.His eyes turn and he looks, as he notices numerous cords "
19
" Katarina wasn’t afraid of Baden. Not anymore.
He took a step to the side, intending to move around her. Oh, no. She flattened her hands on his shoulders, keeping him in place.
“I want to know what’s wrong with you.” She said. “Tell me.”
He snapped his teeth at her in a show of dominance. “You think you want to know my problem. You’re wrong.”
Her tone dry, she said, “I’m so glad you know my mind better than I do.”
“Very well. I need sex.” He threw the words at her as if they were weapons. “Badly.”
Whoa. Blindside!
Heart pounding, she jerked her hands away from him. “Sex...from me?”
“Yesss.” A hiss. “Only from you.”
Only. Amazing how one little word could send pleasure soaring through her, warming her. “You told me never to touch you.” Which she’d just done, she realized. My bad.
“I’ve changed my mind.” His gaze dropped, lingered on her lips.
Burning her... “But you and I...we’re a different species.” As if that mattered to her body. Gimme!
He took a step closer, invading her personal space. “We’ll fit, I promise you.”
Tristo hrmenych! The raspy quality of his voice, all smoke and gravel...she shivered with longing. Must resist his allure.
But...but...why? Before she’d committed to Peter, she’d dated around, had made out in movie theaters, cars and on couches. She’d liked kissing and touching and “riding the belt buckle,” as her friends had called it. Then, after committing to Peter, she’d gifted him with her virginity. At first, he hadn’t known what to do with her—he’d been just as inexperienced—and she’d left each encounter disappointed. When finally she’d gathered the courage to tell him what she wanted, he’d satisfied her well.
She missed sex. But connection...intimacy...she thought she missed those more.
The dogs barked, jolting her from her thoughts. They’d cleaned their food bowls, and now wanted to play. She clasped Baden’s hand to lead him out of the kennel. He jerked away, severing contact.
One action. Tons of hurt.
“I’m allowed to touch you and you want to have sex with me, but you’re still disgusted by me.” She stomped outside the kennel, done with him. “Well, I’m leaving. Good riddance! Your do-what-I-say-or-else attitude was annoying, anyway.”
He darted in front of her, stopping her. Breath caught in her throat as sunlight streamed over him, paying his chiseled features absolute tribute, making his bronzed skin glimmer.
So beautiful. Too beautiful.
“I’m not disgusted by you. You need me. I’ve come to accept it,” he admitted, looking away from her. “But being skin-to-skin with another is painful for me. We’ll have to proceed carefully. And you’ll get over your annoyance.”
Another order! She would show him the error of his ways. "
― Gena Showalter , The Darkest Torment (Lords of the Underworld, #12)
