James Dashner Quotes

Listen,' Thomas said, slowly getting to his feet, hoping Minho wouldn’t be stupid enough to try anything. “There’s something about us. We’re not just random shanks who showed up on your doorstep. We’re valuable. Alive, not dead.” The anger on Jorge’s face lessened ever so slightly. Maybe a spark of curiosity. But what he said was 'What’s a shank?

You scared of that pip-squeak? Dude, you got a lot to learn. Freakin' Newbies.

I've always been fascinated by quantum physics and the possibility of alternate realities.

But first, my friends, I need you to do something for me. We have two spies in the back of the auditorium.

Hunger. It's like an animal trapped inside you, Thomas thought.

He pulled the envelope out of his pocket and ripped it open, then took out the slip of paper. The soft lights that ringed the mirror lit up the message in a warm glow. It was two short sentences: " KILL ME. IF YOU'VE EVER BEEN MY FRIEND, KILL ME.

Sometimes what works in a book is too "in your face" when converted to the big screen and sound.

All things happen for a purpose.

Dude, you tried to slice my you-know-what's off!" Thomas laughed, something that he hadn't done in a long time. He welcomed it happily. "Too bad I didn't. Could've saved the world from future little Minhos.

Rose took my nose, I suppose

Frozen by fear. Not able to move. Your mind screaming

The betrayal meant he couldn't trust her anymore, and his heart told him he couldn't forgive her.

To practice - write each and every day if possible - then try to attend professional writer's conferences where you can learn your craft, get to know fellow writers, and meet editors and agents.

Quit voting me down before you even think about what I'm saying.

Thomas: Is it [my brain] fixed? Brenda: It worked, judging from the fact that you're not trying to kill us anymore.

Thomas jabbed a thumb over his shoulder and raised his eyebrows. "You met our new friend?" Miho responded, a smirk flashing across his face. "Real piece of work, this guy. I gotta get me one of those shuck suits. Fancy stuff." "Am I awake?" Thomas asked. "You're awake. Now eat—you look horrible. Almost as bad as Rat Man over there, reading his book.

Sometimes they do things to make me do the opposite of what they think, I think, they think, I am going to do.

When I'm feeling a little empty in the head, I like to go see movies or read to loosen things up there.

It’s like watching a starving pig eat his own klunk.

He didn't care about the others anymore. The chaos around him seemed to siphon away his humanity, turn him into an animal. All he wanted was to survive, make it to that building, get inside. Live. Gain another day.

Yeah, you're a regular Mozart...well, except for the whole music thing.

I watched as that kid died. In his last few seconds there was pure terror in his eyes. You can't do that. You can't do that to a person. I don't care what anybody tells me, I don't care how many people go crazy and die, I don't care if the whole shuck human race ends. Even if that was the only thing that had to happen to find the cure, I'd still be against it.

He didn't have a single clue what was going on with these two strangers, but every instinct told him Master George equaled good, Mistress Jane equaled bald- he blinked-uh, bad.

Vince couldn't stop talking, spilling thoughts that had obviously churned inside him for years. "We could've stopped the spread of the disease a lot better than we've been able to cure the disease... Thought the magical cure would save them in the end. But if we wait any longer we'll run out of people to save.

You get lazy, you get sad. Start givin' up. Plain and simple.

I sent a lot of publishing ideas to my publisher, about 30 of them. Each time except 3, i got a "rejection letter". This is basically what a rejection letter is like: Hello Pathetic Moron, We read your book. It sucked. Don't send us another one. If you do, we will run over your grandmother with a bus. Don't Do It. From, Your Publisher

I think Judy Blume, Stephen King, and Dean Koontz are the three authors responsible for my being where I am today. I owe them a lot.

I don't think anything's more rewarding than hearing that you've helped someone gain a love of reading.

The Creators,” Minho said; then he spat on the floor. “I’m gonna break your faces!

Maybe you should just press the button

If you ain’t scared… you ain’t human.

I'm inspired by almost everything I come across in life, and one way or another they find themselves sneaking into my stories.

Everything is going to change.

When it comes to individual destiny, there is no power greater in the universe then the conviction of the human soul to make a choice.

I'd love to see that rat nose smashed!

Down the road a bit, I would like to write a couple of stand-alone adult novels, especially in the horror genre. I've got lots of things up my sleeve.

Thomas had a depressing - and scary - thought. 'Am I . . . replacing someone? Did somebody get killed?' Minho shook his head. 'No, we're just training you - someone'll want a break. Don't worry, it's been a while since a Runner was killed.' For some reason that last statement worried Thomas, though he hoped it didn't show on his face.

I've always had high ambitions and aspirations.

He whipped out his sheet, then pulled it over himself and wrapped it tightly around his face like an old woman in a shawl. 'How do I look?' 'Like the ugliest shanky girl I’ve ever seen,' Minho responded. 'You better thank the gods above you were born a dude.' 'Thanks.

Oh, I'm good. Seriously, after all these years, you'd think I would stop amazing myself. But here I am, still doing it.

Such a display of death - how could it be considered a victory?

And then they were kissing. Something exploded within his chest burning away the tension and confusion and fear. Burning away the hurt of seconds earlier. For a moment it felt like nothing mattered anymore. Like nothing would matter ever again.

Let's get this started, people. It won't be long before we all lose our minds.

Thoughts of the girl crashed around his mind, made him remember the connection he felt. A sadness washed over him, as if he missed her, wanted to see her. That doesn't make sense, he thought. I don't even know her name.

Can you do that?” Thomas asked. “Huh?” “Kill someone three times.” “I’d figure out a way.

I do love ponies. Wish I could eat one right now.

Wonder why we can do this,' he called out with his mind. The mental effort of speaking to her was already straining—he felt a headache forming like a bulge in his brain. 'Maybe we were lovers,' Teresa said. Thomas tripped and crashed to the ground. Smiling sheepishly at Minho, who’d turned to look without slowing, Thomas got back up and caught up to him. 'What?' he finally asked. He sensed a laugh from her, a watery image full of color.

Though he’d never know for sure what had happened to them, his mind was super talented at imagining the absolute worst.