“She would rather remain silent, but her voice is no longer something to fear. Its strong. Powerful. A weapon of emotions.”

“She draws back, yet refuses to lose skin contact. Golden light flickers across his face. He is the night, the stars. His soul shines so brightly, she could pour it into a jar, and itd be as bright ...”

“Why wont you look at me? she murmurs.He doesnt speak, seemingly at a loss for words.Its my scars. It comes out as barely a whisper.Horror spasms across his face. What? No, he says, a bit breathless...”

“Refusing to listen to him any longer, Julian backs up. Whenever you realize working together is in Summers best interest, come find me, Boy Scout. Until then, Ill just pretend you dont exist. Then ...”

“Why arent you smiling? Cameron asks. She picks up the Astropad and stops the video.Because this is the beginning, not the end.”

“She waits for his reprimand or words of disapproval.He kisses her instead. Hard. Lips demanding, fingers tightening on her chin. He consumes her with this single act.”

“You matter.”

“It's taken me all this time, all this loss, to realize what really matters is now.”

“They filled our world with weapons aimed at foreheads and smiled as they shot 16 candles right through our future. They killed those strong enough to fight back and locked up the freaks who failed ...”

“And once you've been to this Center, this Truth, you'll know your way everywhere. You are never lost again.”

“The Queen's Pride was his ship, and he loved her. (That was the way his sentences always went: It is raining today and I love you. My cold is better and I love you. Say hello to Horse and I love yo...”

“What Joab did not and could not know was that it was ego, and the ego of a king is just like the ego of anyone else. It is a social infection, entering each person as a psychological virus that is ...”

“Even if all life on our planet is destroyed, there must be other life somewhere which we know nothing of. It is impossible that ours is the only world; there must be world after world unseen by us,...”

“Business or profession?''I guess you'd call me a writer.'No profession,' said the police car, as if talking to itself. The light held him fixed, like a museum specimen, needle thrust through chest.”

“Prediction is the business of prophets, clairvoyants, and futurologists. It is not the business of novelists. A novelists business is lying. The weather bureau will tell you what next Tuesday will ...”