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Tahereh Mafi

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“For me, today was just another first day of school in another new city, so I did what I always did when I showed up at a new school: I didn’t look at people. People were always looking at me, and when I looked back they often took it as an invitation to speak to me, and when they spoke to me they nearly always said something offensive or stupid or both and I’d decided a long time ago that it was easier to pretend they just didn’t exist.”

“The news cycle never let me breathe anymore. 9/11 happened last fall, two weeks into my freshman year, and a couple of weeks later two dudes attacked me while I was walking home from school and the worst part—the worst part—was that it took me days to shake off the denial; it took me days to fathom the why. I kept hoping the explanation would turn out to be more complex, that there’d turn out to be more than pure, blind hatred to motivate their actions. I wanted there to be some other reason why two strangers would follow me home, some other reason why they’d yank my scarf off my head and try to choke me with it. I didn’t understand how anyone could be so violently angry with me for something I hadn’t done, so much so that they’d feel justified in assaulting me in broad daylight as I walked down the street. I didn’t want to understand it. But there it was.”

“I was stuck in another small town, trapped in another universe populated by the kind of people who’d only ever seen faces like mine on their evening news, and I hated it. I hated the exhausting, lonely months it took to settle into a new school; I hated how long it took for the kids around me to realize I was neither terrifying nor dangerous; I hated the pathetic, soul-sucking effort it took to finally make a single friend brave enough to sit next to me in public. I’d had to relive this awful cycle so many times, at so many different schools, that sometimes I really wanted to put my head through a wall. All I wanted from the world anymore was to be perfectly unremarkable. I wanted to know what it was like to walk through a room and be stared at by no one. But a single glance around campus deflated any hopes I might’ve had for blending in.”

“So you just kill people for power." "As do you." "How dare you-" He laughs, loud. "You're free to lie to yourself, if it makes you feel better." "I am not lying-" "Why did it take you so long to break your connection with Jenkins?" My mouth freezes in place. "Why didn't you fight back right away? Why did you allow him to touch for as long as he did?" My hands have begun to shake and I grip them, hard. "You don't know anything about me." "And yet you claim to know me so well." I clench my jaw, not trusting myself to speak. "At least I'm honest," he adds. "You just agreed you're a liar!" He raises his eyebrows. "At least I'm honest about being a liar.”

“Why are you being nice to me?" The suprise on his face suprises me even more. "Because I care about you." he says simply. "You care about me?" The numbness in my body is beginning to dissipate. My blood pressure is rising and anger making its way to the forefron of my consciousness. "I almost killed Jenkins because of you!" "You didn't kill-" "Your soldiers beat me! You keep me here like a prisoner! You threaten me! You threaten to kill me! You give me no freedom and you say you care about me?" I nearly throw the glass of water at his face. "You are a monster!" Warner turns away so I'm staring at his profile. He clasps his hands. Changes his mind. Touches his lips. "I am only trying to help you." "Liar." He seems to consider that. Nods, just once. "Yes, most of the time, yes.”

“We’re running out of time, he said. As if time were the kind of thing you could run out of, as if it were measured into bowls that were handed to us at birth and if we ate too much or too fast or right before jumping into the water then our time would be lost, wasted, already spent. But time is beyond our finite comprehension. It’s endless, it exists outside of us; we cannot run out of it or lose track of it or find a way to hold on to it. Time goes on even when we do not.”

“The Sun is an arrogant thing, always leaving the world behind when it tires of us. The Moon is a loyal companion. It never leaves. It's always there, watching, steadfast, knowing us in our light and dark moments, changing forever just as we do. Everyday it's a different version of itself. Sometimes weak and wan, sometimes strong and full of life. The Moon understands what it means to be human. Uncertain. Alone. Cratered by imperfections.”

“Me?" I said, stunned. "How do I have leverage?" Castle sighed. "You certainly are brave for your age, Ms. Ferrars, but I'm sorry to see your youth so inextricably tied to inexperience. I will try to put it plainly: you have superhuman strength, nearly invincible skin, a letal touch, only seventeen years to your name, and you have single-handedly felled the despot of this nation. And yet you doubt that you might be capable of intimidating the world?" I cringed. "Old habits, Castle," I said quietly. "Bad habits. You're right, of course. Of course you're right.”

“For years my goal was to minimize myself—to fold and refold myself into a polygon of nothingness, to be too insignificant to be remembered. I wanted to appear innocent; I wanted to be thought of as quiet and harmless; I was worried always about how my very existence was terrifying to others and I did everything in my power to diminish myself, my light, my soul. I wanted so desperately to placate the innocent. I wanted so badly to appease the assholes who judged me without knowing me that I lost myself in the process. But now? Now, I laugh. Out loud. Now, I don't give a shit.”

“Nur Monster zwangen Mädchen und Frauen dazu, wie menschliche Kartoffelsäcke herumzulaufen, und machten damit Schlagzeigen. Und diese Arschlöcher hatten es geschafft, das gesellschaftliche Klima für alle zu bestimmen. Mittlerweile fragte mich niemand, warum ich Kopftuch trug. Die Leute bildeten sich ein, die Antwort zu kennen, obwohl die meisten komplett danebenlagen. Ich trug es nicht, weil ich eine Nonne sein wollte, sondern weil ich mich damit geborgen fühlte – weniger verwundbar. Für mich war es eine Art Rüstung. Ich trug das Kopftuch, weil ich es tragen wollte und ganz bestimmt nicht, um züchtig auszusehen, nur weil irgendwelche Idioten es nicht schafften, ihren Schwanz in der Hose zu behalten.”

“How did I think people ruled the world? Did I really imagine it would be so simple? That I might control the fabric of society from the comfort of my boyfriend's bedroom? I'm only now beginning to understand the breath of this delicate, intricately developed spiderweb of people, positions, and power already in place. I said I was up for the task. Me, a seventeen-year-old nobocy with very little life experience; I volunteered for this position. And now-- basically overnight-- I have to keep up. And I have no idea what I'm doing. But if I don't learn how to manage these many relationships? If I don't at least pretend to have even the slightest idea of how I'm going to rule? The rest of the world could so easily destroy me. And sometimes I'm not sure I'll make it out of this alive.”

“Hazan, he said, I have to fall back. The dragons know where to go and they’ll carry you to safety no matter what happens next— "Wait—where are you going—?" I must head off the other riders. All you need to do is hang on. "Cyrus, you idiot you can't head off a team of riders on your own. You're going to get yourself killed—" I’m not so easily killed, said Cyrus. She only makes it seem that way. "You self-righteous bastard," said Hazan angrily. "You really think this is the time to be melodramatic?”

“The Reestablishment was quick on the uptake, doing such seamless damage control I almost couldn’t believe it. They capitalized on the problem, claiming that what happened this morning was a taste of future devastation. They claimed that they managed to get it under control before it got any worse, and they reminded the people to be grateful for the protections provided by The Reestablishment; that, without them, the world would be a lot worse. It fairly scared the shit out of everyone. Things feel a lot quieter now. The civilians seem subdued in a way they weren’t before. It’s stunning, really, how The Reestablishment managed to convince people that the sky collapsing while the sun just disappeared for a full minute were normal things that could happen in the world. It’s unbelievable that they feed people that kind of bullshit, and it’s unbelievable that people eat it up.”

“Want hoewel de magische chemie die twee harten aan elkaar vastklinkt nou eenmaal onkenbaar is, kon Olivier Vanoever niet ontkennen dat er iets met hem was gebeurd toen hij Laylee Layla Fenjoon voor het allereerst zag. Hij was op dat moment geraakt door een onzichtbare vorm van magie, en zijn emoties bleken niet meer te ontwarren. En dit is het gekke met gevoelens: Soms worden ze langzaam opgebouwd, baksteen voor baksteen zorgvuldig op elkaar gestapeld tijdens jaren van toegewijd hard werken. Eenmaal neergezet zijn dergelijke fundamenten onwrikbaar. Soms worden ze echter ook roekeloos neergekwakt, allemaal tegelijk, boven op je, met stapels stenen op je hart en je longen zodat je er zo nodig zelfs levend onder wordt begraven.”