Forks are absurd, he scoffed. They insult your food. They make it think you're killing it twice.

Mom actually said that?" Cassie's face shown with happiness. "She always hated my math!

Forks are absurd, he scoffed. They insult your food. They make it think you're killing it twice.

Mom actually said that?" Cassie's face shown with happiness. "She always hated my math!" "Nah," Martin said. "She was just being that way for you. She thought it was what you needed to hear. If parents told us what they really think about stuff, we could figure them out like regular people.

Being a writer means crying over the sad parts, even though you already know it’s going to be okay.

I had no fear of the stream's perils, and I listened with the greatest contentment to the quiet slap of water on rocks, the running whisper of the current, and the taps and creaks and croaks that rose with the mist around me. Overhead swing the glittering stars, and the bright moon shone down and lit the curling ripples of the water. At no time in my life had I been in greater danger from the elements, and yet if I learned that heaven is such as that night was, I should deem it a joy worth the dying.

For how many generations now had his people been turning their backs on things? How long had they sat in their living rooms and watched other people die?