Right now, America looks like a fatheaded, shortsighted, gas-guzzling arrogant blowhard to the rest of the world.

I led the way toward the crowd, trying to look casual, like, Fly? Me? Nah.

No one looks like Fang-dark and still and dangerous, like he's daring you to set him off. But I'd seen him rocking Angel when she'd hurt herself; I'd seen him smile in his sleep; I'd seen the deep, darkl ight in his eyes as he leaned over me... ~Max; "Max"; page 24

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.

I vill eat nine Snikuhs bahs visout bahfing

You mean other than the wings? I once ate nine snicker bars in a row without barfing. It was a record.

This is my brain: O This is my brain after making out with Fang: * It's very sad.