He hated to think of his own life stretching ahead of him that way, a long succession of days and nights that were fine - not good, not bad, not great, not lousy, not exciting, not anything.
Robert CormierA terrific sadness swept over Jerry. As if somebody had died. The way he felt standing in the cemetry that day they buried his mother. And nothing you could do about it.
Robert CormierI find that most books that I don't like are those in which the authors have indulged themselves. I can almost sense when they're writing something for themselves.
Robert Cormier