#liver

Was he hungry? He'd had an enormous breakfast, but the transition from the glimpse had taken a lot out of him. Did they serve lunch in Hell? Should he have packed a snack? Why was he suddenly thinking about food? ↗

— Melissa de la Cruz

#oliver #food

Deliverance is about what I went through the first time. And I chalk it up as a learning experience. ↗

— Bubba Sparxxx

#chalk #deliverance #experience #first #first time

One of the strangest things about life is that it will chug on, blind and oblivious, even as your private world - your little carved out sphere - is twisting and morphing, even breaking apart. ↗

— Lauren Oliver

#lauren-oliver #life

She found herself wondering at what point in her life she had ceased to be Gulliver and had become the strings holding him to the ground. ↗

— Erica Bauermeister

#gulliver #responsibility #life

I know the rules. I've been living here longer than you have." He cracks a smile then. He nudges me back. "Hardly." "Born and raised. You're a transplant." I nudge him again, a little harder, and he laughs and tries to catch hold of my arm. I squirm away, giggling, and he stretches out to tickle my stomach. "Country bumpkin!" I squeal, as he grabs out and wrestles me back onto the blanket, laughing. "City slicker," he says, rolling over on top of me, and then kisses me. Everything dissolves: heat, explosions of color, floating. ↗

— Lauren Oliver

#delirium #lauren-oliver #lena #love #romance

I've always been able to see you," I say. "It's a rather lovely view. ↗

— Jodi Picoult

#oliver #love

Most things, even the greatest moments on earth, have their beginnings in something small. An earthquake that shatters a city might begin with a tremor, a tremble, a breath. Music begins with a vibration. ↗

— Lauren Oliver

#delirium #lauren-oliver #small #music

Are you armed?" Oliver asked her. She glanced down at her backpack and instantly, instinctively held back. "No." "Lie to me again and I'll put you out on the street and do this myself." Claire swallowed. "Uh, yeah." "With what?" "Silver-coated stakes, wooden stakes, a crossbow, about ten bolts . . . oh, and a squirt gun with some silver-nitrate solution." He smiled grimly at the dark windshield. "What, no grenade launchers?" "Would they work?" "I choose not to comment. ↗

— Rachel Caine

#oliver #guns

The demon stopped its frantic attempts to escape. It stared at the glitter and began to pant, fingers twitching in anticipation. More twitching. Faster than she'd expected, it zoomed up to the sparkles, despite the danger. She snagged the fiend right before it picked up the last one, and dropped the Magpie into the cup. Instead of a flood of swear words or the offer of a favor, she heard a long, tortured sigh. Then it sat, sorting the glitter into piles by color. Now she'd seen everything. ↗

— Jana Oliver

#jana-oliver #riley-blackthorne #torture

Grief is like sinking, like being buried. I am in water the tawny color of kicked-up dirt. Every breath is full of choking. There is nothing to hold on to, no sides, no way to claw myself up. There is nothing to do but let go. Let go. Feel the weight all around you, feel the squeezing of your lungs, the slow, low pressure. Let yourself go deeper. There is nothing but bottom. There is nothing but the taste of metal, and the echoes of old things, and days that look like darkness. ↗

— Lauren Oliver

#lauren-oliver #color