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The merrel also knew its wing had not healed. But I could reach a great height once more before it failed me, it said. And from there I would fold my wings and plummet to the earth as if a hare or a fawn had caught my eye; but it would be myself I stooped toward. It would be a good flight and a good death. And so I eat their dead things cut up on a pole, dreaming of my last flight. ↗
I realise it’s going to happen. This girl of my dreams, this girl who is more like me than anyone I’ve ever met, wants to kiss me. ↗
Stories are not like the real world; they aren't held back by what we know is false or true. What's important is how a story makes you feel inside. ↗
These examples and many others demonstrate an alarming trend whereby the privacy and dignity of our citizens is being whittled away by sometimes imperceptible steps. Taken individually, each step may be of little consequence. But when viewed as a whole, there begins to emerge a society quite unlike any we have seen -- a society in which government may intrude into the secret regions of man's life at will." [Dissenting, Osborn v. United States, 385 U.S. 323, 343 (1966)] ↗
Silence cleared her throat, fearful her voice would come out a croak. “Is she asleep?” He blinked as if he, too, were waking from a dream, and glanced down at Mary Darling. “Aye, I’m a-thinkin’ she is—she’s stopped fussin’ at me.” Silence felt a huge smile of relief spread over her face. “She was fussing? Oh, how wonderful!” He shot her a look, one eyebrow arching. “Ye’ve taught the child to bully me, too, now?” “Oh, no,” she said hastily, embarrassed. Did he really think she bullied him? What a silly notion! ↗
