Like a good song, life has verses, the goliards had taught me. Each verse has to be sung. It takes all of them to make a song. It is the entire chanson you name, but when you think of it, when you smile, it is a favorite verse that delights your ears.

Did you know that wasn’t me, the other Max?” I asked. “Yeah.” “When?” “Right away.” “How?” I persisted. “We look identical. She even had identical scars and scratches. She was wearing my clothes. How could you tell us apart?” He turned to me and grinned, making my world brighter. “She offered to cook breakfast.

Okay, so, flying,” I started, taking a deep breath and focusing on the thing I loved most in the world. “Flying is … great. It feels great when you’re doing it. It’s fun. Pure freedom. There’s nothing better.” Dylan smiled, a slow, easy smile that seemed to light up his whole face. “So the first thing we’re going to do,” I told him, “is push you off the roof.

fang will be the first to die

If I'm writing and a chapter isn't coming, I just move ahead.

A good love story always keeps the pot boiling.

Does anything on you work properly?" Asked ter Borcht. "Well, I do have a highly developed sense of irony." Replied Iggy.