Causes have a way of tainting your reason until a person takes much bigger risks than sanity would otherwise allow.

She pictured herself running from a hoard of ravenous zombies on a hot day eventually collapsing from heatstroke and getting devoured. Then she imagined Hal giving a rousing eulogy at her funeral explaining how Kendra's death was a beautiful sacrifice allowing the noble zombies to live on delighting future generations by mindlessly trying to eat them. With her luck it could totally happen.

Any simpleton can speak with confidence. Sometimes the greatest fools have the most bravado.

Could you just call me Pigeon?” he asked the teacher when she read his name. “Does your mother call you Pigeon?” “No.” “Then to me you are Paul.” ... “Nathan Sutter,” the teacher read. “My mother never calls me Nathan.” “Is it Nate?” “She calls me Honeylips.

You look tired," Rachel told Jason. "I wish I could jog and sleep at the same time." "Can't you?" Ferrin asked, joining them at the little cascade. "I always imagined that you could sleep rolling down a mountainside in a barrel." "I probably could today," Jason conceded.

This surpassed the fear of death. Death would be a mercy if it would make the feeling stop, the uncontrollable panic mingling with the mind-scrambling certainty of something sinister approaching, something with no need to hurry, something that would not be so kind as to let him die. The fear was palpable, suffocating, irresistible.

He would have shaved the centaurs, dipped them in honey, covered them with feathers, and hung them up like a bunch of pinatas. I'm just saying." - Warren