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The Book of Maxims, Poems and Anecdotes

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Michael Bassey Johnson

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“The doors of the darkest room one had ever seen were opened and everyone was asked to collect the pieces of themselves that they have lost with time all these years. Everyone rushed in and started searching for the pieces that would complete them but all of a sudden they saw the light in the room fading away, they turned around and saw the doors closing back again. They screamed and tried to run back but all of a sudden there were fences all around them, they lost their voice and helplessly stuck in there saw the doors closing. They lost themselves completely in the quest of searching the pieces they had lost before.”

PainLostDarkPiecesDoorsCryStuckEscapeSearchVoiceless
Author:Akshay Vasu
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“Akinli, this strange boy whose life at the moment seemed to be hanging on this, pushed himself from the bed. Julie gasped, watching as his arms trembled under his weight, even as thin as he was. He crushed his eyes together in concentration, willing himself up. I heard Ben whisper to himself, “Come on, come on, come on.” When Akinli, breathing as if he truly had just run a marathon, was fairly close to upright, he held out an arm for me. I fell into it fearlessly. We leaned into each other, neither of us strong enough to stay up on our own. “I thought I’d never see you sit up again,” Julie cried. We both turned to her, smiling at the happy tears on her face.”

CryHappySmilingHoldBenJulieKahlenAkinliSit Up
Book:The Siren
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“Hana?" Lena says softly. "Are you okay?" That single stupid question breaks me. All the metal fingers relax me at once, and the tears they've been holding back come surging up at once. Suddenly I am sobbing and telling her everything: about the raid, and the dogs, and the sounds of skulls cracking underneath regulator's nightsticks. Thinking about it again makes me feel like I might puke. At a certain point, Lena puts her arms around me and starts murmuring things into my hair. I don't even know what she's saying, and I don't care. JUst having her here—solid, real, on my side—makes me feel better than I have in weeks. Slowly I manage to stop crying, swallowing back the hiccups and sobs that are still running through me. I try to tell her that I've missed her, and that I've been stupid and wrong, but my voice is muffled and thick”

CryComfortConcernedFriendBetterLena HalowayHana TateSob
Book:Hana
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“Do you believe in God, Evan?” “Sure I do.” “I don’t. I mean, I don’t know. I did before the Others came. Or thought I did, when I thought about it at all. And then they came and…” I have to stop for a second to collect myself. “Maybe there’s a God. Sammy thinks there is. But he also thinks there’s a Santa Claus. Still, every night I said his prayer with him, and it didn’t have anything to do with me. It was about Sammy and what he believed, and if you could have seen him take that fake soldier’s hand and follow him onto that bus…” I’m losing it, and it doesn’t matter to me much. Crying is always easier in the dark. Suddenly my cold hand is blanketed by Evan’s warmer one, and his palm is as soft and smooth as the pillowcase beneath my cheek. “It kills me,” I sob. “The way he trusted. Like the way we trusted before they came and blew the whole goddamned world apart. Trusted that when it got dark there would be light. Trusted that when you wanted a fucking strawberry Frappuccino you could plop your ass in the car, drive down the street, and get yourself a fucking strawberry Frappuccino! Trusted…”

GodCryTrustOthersCassie SullivanEvan WalkerSobSam Sullivan
Book:The 5th Wave
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