We're going to get gored to death by a feral fugging hog and your best strategy is to pretend it's a grizzly bear?

A small olive-skinned creature who had hit puberty but never hit it very hard, Ben had been my best friend since fifth grade, when we both finally owned up to the fact that neither of us was likely to attract anyone else as a best friend.

Love is keeping the promise anyway.

From the front Rdar announces, "Don't you go talking bad about GoFast bars. Do you want me to stop this car?" "Whenever I eat a GoFast bar," Ben says, "I'm always like, 'So this is what blood tastes like to mosquitoes.

I smiled. She smiled. I believed the smile.

For a moment, she was quiet. Then she grabbed my hand, whispered, “Run run run run run,” and took off, pulling me behind her.

Because there is no glory in illness. There is no meaning to it. There is no honor in dying of.