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#jack

Read through the most famous quotes by topic #jack




Suddenly Adam (Upton) hated death just as much as he hated life, and now he had absolutely no idea how to unsolve that equation. -- From my upcoming novel "Streaks of Blue: How the Angels of Newtown Inspired One Girl to Save Her School.


Jack Chaucer


#newtown #streaks-of-blue #death

As usual, Junko thought about Jack London's 'To Build a Fire.' It was the story of a man traveling alone through the snowy Alaskan interior and his attempts to light a fire. He would freeze to death unless he could make it catch. The sun was going down. Junko hadn't read much fiction, but that one short story she had read again and again, ever since her teacher had assigned it as an essay topic during summer vacation of her first year in high school. The scene of the story would always come vividly to mind as she read. She could feel the man's fear and hope and despair as if they were her own; she could sense the very pounding of his heart as he hovered on the brink of death. Most important of all, though, was the fact that the man was fundamentally longing for death. She knew that for sure. She couldn't explain how she knew, but she knew it from the start. Death was really what he wanted. He knew that it was the right ending for him. And yet he had to go on fighting with all his might. He had to fight against an overwhelming adversary in order to survive. What most shook Junko was this deep-rooted contradiction. The teacher ridiculed her view. 'Death is really what he wanted? That's a new one for me! And strange! Quite 'original,' I'd have to say.' He read her conclusion aloud before the class, and everybody laughed. But Junko knew. All of them were wrong. Otherwise how could the ending of the story be so quiet and beautiful?


Haruki Murakami


#jack-london #landscape-with-flatiron #beauty

We need a shroud. A shroud for the son of Hermes.


Rick Riordan


#luke #percy-jackson #death

We look high and low for God, but somehow He's not there. So we blame Him and tell ourselves that He must have forgotten us. Or else we decide that He left us long ago, if He was ever around." "How strange," the little fish said, "to miss what is everywhere." "Very strange," the old whale agreed. "Doesn't it remind you of fish who say they're thirsty?


Michael Jackson


#faith

Behold!" Percy shouted. "The god's chosen beverage. Tremble before the horror of Diet Coke!


Rick Riordan


#dolphin-warriors #mark-of-athena #percy-jackson #diet

Dreams like a podcast, Downloading truth in my ears. They tell me cool stuff." "Apollo?" I guess, because I figured nobody else could make a haiku that bad. He put his finger to his lips. "I'm incognito. Call me Fred." "A god named Fred?


Rick Riordan


#fred #haiku #humor #percy-jackson #poem

Forget the chicken-nugget smoke screen. Percy wanted Leo to invent an anti-dream hat.


Rick Riordan


#heroes-of-olympus #leo-valdez #percy-jackson #percy-jackson-and-the-olympians #the-mark-of-athena

Prove it!" she hissed. "Prove you are who you are!" "We don't have time for this! You really want me to prove who I am?" he asked. "Yes!" she challenged. In answer, he took her in his arms, lifting her up and against the wall. He pressed his lips against hers, and with each kiss she could see into his mind, into his soul. She saw a year of hate...saw him alone, alienated, hurt. She had lied to him and had left him. With every kiss he made her see, made her feel...every emotion, every dream he had of her...every ounce of his wanting and his need...and his love...his all-consuming, life-affirming love for her. In the darkness they found each other again...and she kissed him back, so greedily and hungrily, she never wanted to stop kissing him...to feel his heart against hers, the two of them intertwined together, his hands in her hair, then down the small of her back. She wanted to cry from the overwhelming emotion that engulfed the two of them.... "Now do you belive me?" Jack asked huskily, pulling away from a moment so they could look into each other's eyes. Schuyler nodded, breathless. Jack. Every fiber of her being tingled with love and desire and remorse and forgiveness. Oh Jack...the love of her life, her sweet, her soul...


Melissa de la Cruz


#lutetia #schuyler #dreams

Stay with me, Becks. Dream of me. I am ever yours.


Brodi Ashton


#nikki-beckett #dreams

A scene should be selected by the writer for haunted-ness-of-mind interest. If you're not haunted by something, as by a dream, a vision, or a memory, which are involuntary, you're not interested or even involved.


Jack Kerouac


#jack-kerouac #memory #vision #writer #writing






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