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Quote by Ahmed Mostafa

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Ahmed Mostafa

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“Storms are relentless and unforgiving. You know it's there, you feel it surrounding you, threatening to consume you should you dare to look, dare to behold the captivating wonder... Yet, fear grips. For although you know that it could swallow you whole and rip you to shreds, if you do not, eventually, the storm will dissipate, leaving you trembling and empty... We storms know this...”

“His steward and his housekeeper, both persons of sentiment, hoped that upon his death-bed he would remember her, and speak of her with a forgiving tongue, for it seemed to them incredible that so gentle and lovely a lady should hold no place in his heart or memory. They even indulged their fancies by supposing that his overt dislike of his elder son was caused by the secret pangs the sight of the fair boy, who was indeed the image of his mother, caused him to feel.”

“I looked across the table and caught Jack watching me while Chloe and Gage whispered sweet nothings to each other. "What are you looking at?" I demanded. "You." My heart squeezed in my chest. "Well, don't look at me. I would say don't talk to me, either, but we need to get this thing done." "Would it help if I apologized?" Sincerity oozed from every pore of his handsome face. It was incredibly irritating. "Apologize for what? For ghosting me? For kissing Clare? For failing to tell me about your past or your psychotic bunny-boiling ex? For making her so angry that she ratted us out to a Mafia boss who has threatened to kill me and my friends?”

“Clare can be our grease woman," Jack offered. "If we have to deal with a pressure-sensitive floor or lasers in the bunker or the vault, she'll be invaluable. She's very flexible and can get through tight spaces. I've seen her bend---" I choked and spat my drink in Jack's face. It wasn't intentional, but I was also not unhappy his face was in my way. "Dude..." Gage shook his head. "That's not what I meant." Jack dabbed at his face with a napkin. "She's a burglar. She's who people call if they need someone to scale a brick wall, descend from the ceiling via a series of cables, or maneuver around a laser hallway." I had a strong feeling Clare wasn't the type of person to do her flexible twisting and bending in jogging pants and a baggy tee. She would probably put on her whitest Lycra and ask Jack to set up a pretend laser field made out of string so he could watch her practice.”

“She often felt inconsequential in the world. It was only the sunrise and sunset, the clouds steadily moving overhead that provided her with the perspective of God’s long brush-like movements on earth. A history, an accounting, and miraculous interventions were moving along at a steady pace. Even if she couldn’t see the changes, changes were certainly turning as the hands on the clock turn. Someone was watching and ticking marks on a ledger. “Dear Father in heaven, may the words of my mouth and the meditations of my heart be acceptable in Your sight, my Redeemer.”