You're dead, son. Cheer is contraindicated.
I love you, Journeyman said to the lift crystal. He kissed it and spread his arms across its surface in an embrace. I love you, you big, beautiful beast. I want you to marry me. I want you to bear my children.
There are many things you have never done, Rowl responded. To be frightened of them is of no use to you.
My faith protects me. My Kevlar helps.
Polka will never die.
We had reached the doors to my suite, which still felt awkward to say, even in my own head. My suite. Guys like me don't have suites. We have lairs.
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Monsters are born of pain and grief and loss and anger. Your heart is full of them.
Mortimer Lindquist seemed to have finally given in to the inevitable. I'd seen him with a bad toupee, and with an even worse comb-over, but this was the first time I'd seen him sporting a full-on Charles Xavier.
It gets kind of zen after awhile, life is a journey, time is a river, the door is ajar.
I got the sneaking suspicion that the vampire was a couple of Peeps short of an Easter basket.
Truth be told, my head was spinning so much that the car could have been doing interpretive dance in a lilac tutu and I might not have noticed.
You're with me today. I need someone to watch my back. Maybe to help me eat a hot dog later.
Then I drew in a breath, and my renewed will with it, lifted the rod in my right hand, murmured a phrase in a language I didn't know, and blew the tires off his fucking truck.
I like to stay cozy with my paranoia, not pass her around to my friends and family.
Honestly. He sometimes felt that humans simply had to be deliberately obtuse. What was so difficult about understanding civilized and excellently enunciated speech?
And it was all your fault, Harry.
Body or mind, heart or soul, we're all human, and we're supposed to feel pain. You cut yourself off from it at your own risk.
I... drew out the gun I kept at home, a great big old Dirty Harry Callahan number that weighed about seventy-five thousand pounds.
Hebbity bedda, I said, by way of attempting a greeting. My mouth had gone rather numb, and my tongue felt like a lead weight. Jussa hangonna sayke hee. Fix jumped up and down, pointing at me, his voice shrill. He's casting on us!
Laughter, like love, has power to survive the worst things life has to offer. And to do it with style.