I won't let this be my good-bye. I've folded one thousand paper crane memories of me and Grace, and I've made my wish. I will find a cure. And then I will find Grace.

Sometimes, your eyes see something your brain doesn't. You pick up a nmewspaper and yourhead gives you a phrase that you didn't consciously read yet. You walk into a room and you realize something's out of place before you've bothered to properly look. I felt that happening now." "Sam's thoughts on page 304 of Linger.

There's a tap on the door then. We all exchange looks, Tommy Falk's as uncertain as the rest of ours. No one moves, so I finally wipe my hands off on my pants, go to the door, and open it a crack. Sean stands on the other side, one hand in his trouser pocket, the other holding a loaf of bread. I wasn't prepared for it to be Sean, so my stomach does a neat little trick that feels like either hunger or escaping.

his voice was centuries old

Tell me what it's like. The race." "What it's like is a battle. A mess of horses and men and blood. The fastest and strongest of what is left from two weeks of preparation on the sand. It's the surf in your face, the deadly magic of November on your skin, the Scorpio drums in the place of your heartbeat. It's speed, if you're lucky. It's life and it's death or it's both, and there's nothing like it.

The entire room was so yellow that it looked like the sun had thrown up on the walls and wiped its mouth afterward on the dresser and curtains. ---Cole

Did you just tell that man you went potty on yourself?" "You. Shut. Up,"I hissed back furiously and chucked the scrubs at his head. "Hurry up before they find out I didn't wet myself. You seriously owe me.