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I Quotes

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All I Quotes

“I landed on the roof of the hospital with a soft thud. The city was beautiful at night with all its lights on. Somewhere out there was Ryan, pacing the streets, hurt and angry, not understanding. I didn’t understand it, either. It was an abstract, somehow, a theory, this love. I loved everything. This city, my story, the Norns, Thor, Odin and the writer. I loved the einherjar, the battles, the books and my sisters. I loved it all to the point of my heart breaking. I loved it all for its beauty. So maybe I was capable of falling in love, after all. I was in love with the illusion. The stories intertwining underneath it all. In love with how it all came together to create an ongoing tale. In love with the fiction.”

“I lapsed into my pathetic cut-off period. Often with humans, both good and bad, my senses simply shut off, they get tired, I give up. I am polite. I nod. I pretend to understand because I don’t want anybody to be hurt. That is the one weakness that has lead me into the most trouble. Trying to be kind to others I often get my soul shredded into a kind of spiritual pasta. No matter. My brain shuts off. I listen. I respond. And they are too dumb to know that I am not there.”

“I last visited White Hart Lane in early February 2016, and as I took my seat, after a few pints in the (TV-less) concourse, in the upper tier of the South-West corner I couldn’t help but notice the tumbleweed rolling around the ground. The stony silence from areas of the ground where I would normally expect the home fans to be sitting was deafening, and the whole ground was reminiscent of a ghost town. Whenever the magnificent Watford support ceased singing for a brief second or two I could hear the hollow, dry wind, and I found the desolate, dry and humourless atmosphere all rather eerie. But here’s the weird thing. If I squinted my eyes it almost appeared as if 36,000 people were sitting in seats around the ground, and the only conclusion I could draw was that it just one guy and that it was all done with mirrors.”

“I later read a survey about Southerners' knowledge of the War; only half of those aged eighteen to twenty-four could name a single battle, and only one in eight knew if they had a Confederate ancestor. This was a long way from the experience of earlier generations, smothered from birth in the thick gravy of Confederate culture and schooled on textbooks that were little more than Old South propaganda. In this sense, ignorance might prove a blessing. Knowing less about the past, kids seemed less attached to it. Maybe the South would finally exorcise its demons by simply forgetting the history that created them. But Alabaman's seemed to have also let go of the more recent and hopeful history embodied in Martin Luther King's famous speech. "I have a dream," he said, of an Alabama where "black boys and black girls will be able to join hands with white boys and white girls as sisters and brothers.”

“I laugh a lot in horror films. If I'm scared in a horror film, I try to think about what's scaring me... particularly, if it's a bad movie, but something they're doing still works. It's the same way I look at comedy. I've always had an intellectual view of comedy, and what makes people laugh, and how does it work.”

“I laugh, and it’s laughter, not light, that casts out the darkness building within me, that reminds me I am still alive, even in this strange place where everything I’ve ever known is coming apart. I know some things—I know that I’m not alone, that I have friends, that I’m in love. I know where I came from. I know that I don’t want to die, and for me, that’s something—more than I could have said a few weeks ago.”

“I laugh and pull out the PB&J donut I got for myself, eager to dig in. The sweet raspberry filling oozes out down my chin and I have to lick it to keep it from dripping onto my shirt. Then the donut is plucked from my hand. “Hey, I’m—” is as far as I get before Zach is kissing me. Or, more accurately, tasting me. Maybe even devouring me. “You had …” he says in between kisses to the corner of my mouth. “… some …” Lick. “… jam …” Kiss. “… right …” Lick. “… here.” Oh God. This man. Could he be any sexier? And then he’s kissing me in earnest, the experience all the sweeter thanks to the donuts. And how good he is at kissing. He pulls me down onto the couch with him and we’re nearly horizontal. Which is so not a bad thing. His fingers twine in my hair and I sigh with happiness.”

“I laugh because it is hilarious. The thing humans think we are is just so different and they have even made movies that I’ve seen, they are just joke, literally. “The version humans have made of us is extremely strange. We can die from a gun made from obsidian and knives made of pure molten rock. But other then that we are im- mortal, we can get ill but there are ways to never be ill, there are ways to never be mur- dered, so we are practically immortal what a shame that humans are completely mortal, you can’t stop illness like we can and you certainly can die from an abundance of things. But I am sure you live your lives to the fullest, right? Not a single day goes by without doing something worth remembering, right?”