No subscription or hidden extras
Read through the most famous quotes by topic #ombies
I came to the conclusion a while ago that there is nothing romantic or supernatural about loving someone: Love is the privilege of being responsible for another. It was, for a time, what kept me going: Each morning, for a little while, I got to feel the weight of the yoke on my back as I pulled the ancient cart of my species. ↗
Americans worship technology. It's an inherent trait in the national zeitgeist. ↗
#max-brooks #science-fiction #technology #world-war-z #zombie
I think I remember what love was like before. There were complex emotional and biological factors. We had elaborate tests to pass, connections to forge, ups and downs and tears and whirlwinds. It was an ordeal, an exercise in agony, but it was alive. The new love is simpler. Easier. But small. ↗
I turned on Fox News and jumped when I saw that they had one of those things in their studio. "Are you people crazy?" I screamed at the television. "Get out of there. Somebody shoot it!" Then I realized I was watching Special Report and had mistaken Charles Krauthammer for a zombie. ↗
They were all looking at him with an unpronounceable hunger. Actually it was a lot like the faces you see in porn, but with less certainty of the course of action. It was as if they couldn't decide whether to fuck him first, and then eat him, or the other way around. Except that probably wouldn't work as well. ↗
Me agarro el estómago de nuevo. —Me siento vacío... Me siento...muerto. Él asiente. —Matri...monio. ↗
SPOILERS I move closer to the glass, as close as I can get to it, begging her, begging Lily, begging Grace, begging all of them to tell me what's left, to just tell me, while the girl pushes against the window, turns her tiny hands into tiny fists, begging me for a taste of - life. My life. Lily disappears. Grace. They all leave, they're gone, they will never be here again. But the weight of what they've shown me is settling into my bones. I don't know if I will keep it, but just in this moment, however brief, I feel closer to it than I ever have before. . . The dead girl presses her face against the glass. She waits for me to tell her what's next. ↗
