Dying is one of those things that can’t be fixed. Not by talking about it, not with all the brain surge in the world.

She wasn't here to gawk. She was an infiltrator, a sneak, an ugly. And she had a mission.

Money's the same, whoever gives it to you. That was the point of money, after all: crisp and clean or wrinkled or disintegrated into quarters - a dollar was always worth a hundred cents.

Nature didn't need an operation to be beautiful. It just was.

The flowers were so beautiful, so delicate and unthreatening, but they choked everything around them.

She smiled, turning toward Alek. "You don't know what a friend you have in Dylan.

A little drama wins more friends than boring.