Homework, I have discovered, involves a sharp pencil and thick books and long sighs.

Her eyes hold the pale moon in them, the way a still pond holds stars.

Death's gruesome face taunts: soulless eyes, crimson grimace. I really hate clowns.

Is there anything sweeter than the touch of another as she pulls a dead bug from your fur?

They think we’re intelligent. So, Marco, keep quiet. We don’t want them to learn the truth.” Rachel

When I'm drawing a picture, I feel...quiet inside.

Full emergency power to the engines. Ram the Blade ship.