We are the choices we make. And have to make. We aren't anything else.

I think everybody falls, I think we all do. And I don't think that's the asking. I think the asking is whether we get back up again.

He'd heard once that the only people who could effectively treat the trauma of surviving an airplane crash were other survivors of airplane crashes. You could only instinctively trust someone who had been there, who had seen it firsthand.

And it feels like, finally.

That was how the world worked, wasn't it? You set your sights on something, and life came along with a sucker punch.

It is now or never," said the yew tree. "You must speak the truth.

And we dream the same in my town as you probably do in a city. We yearn the same, wish the same. We're just as screwed-up and brave and false and loyal and wrong and right as anyone else.

The thing is, Todd, people don't really want freedom, no matter how much they might bleat on about it.

Little girls aren't naturally lost," Karen said, frowning as she scanned saucepans. "Someone makes them that way.

Spackle! Manchee barks, tho he's too chicken to attack now that I've held back. Spackle! Spackle! Spackle!

I meet blind and partially-sighted young readers all the time, and it's a shock that so few books are available to them.

I don't believe in guardian angels," Regine says seriously. "Just people who are there for you and people who aren't.

His mother shakes her head. Everyone thinks they know what's best. Everyone. And then a voice behind him says, Sometimes you need to find out that you don't, though.

And now it's time to hand the baton to you. Stories don't end with writer, however many started the race. So go. Run with it. Make trouble.

Who is to say that it is not everything else that is the dream?

Francia don't look too convinced. I never seen arms so crossed.

She is born in the breath of a cloud.

Know yourself and go in swinging.

But wherever I am, whatever this world is, I've just got to be sure I'm me and that's what's real...Know yourself and go in swinging. If it hurts when you hit it, it might be real, too.

I think the reason teenage fiction is so popular with adults is that adults hunger for narrative just as badly as teenagers do.

As to how you'll help me," he says. "Well, we have met the Answer, have we not?" He turns back to look at us, his eyes glinting. "It's time for them to meet the Ask.

Not everyone has to be the guy who saves the world. Most people just have to live their lives the best they can, doing things that are great for them, having great friends, trying to make their lives better, loving people properly. All the while knowing that the world makes no sense but trying to find a way to be happy anyway.

The devil tells the best stories.

And love and care have all kinds of different faces, and within them, there's room for understanding, and for forgiveness, and for more.

I remember the ache I used to feel when she got too close, how it felt like grief, how it felt like a loss, like I was falling, falling into nothing, how it clenched me up and made me want to weep, made me actually weep.

I am the circle and the circle is me.

I hate myself. Almost all the time. I try not to tell anyone because I don't want to burden them, but I feel like I'm falling farther and farther away from them. Like the well's getting deeper and I'm running out of energy to climb it and any minute now, any second, it's going to stop being worth even trying.

I want a campfire box.

It's not the mistakes I made but how I responded to them.

Everything's always ending. But everything's always beginning, too.

Maybe there didn't have to be any other reasons. Maybe love made you stupid. Maybe loneliness did.

I am very clever. I am sure and could figure it out and shazam! Tomasz saves the world again.

But Jesus, people need, you know? I know that. They need things and they don't know why, they just need them.

No one can provide the heart it's own peace; you have to find it yourself.

For me, when I start a novel, I only have a general sense of what I am going to do - usually three or four big scenes or something to which I can really respond emotionally.

She turns to me sharply. To live _is_ to fight, she snaps. To preserve life is to fight _everything_ that man stands for. She takes an angry huff of air. And now her, too, with all the bombs. I fight them every time I bandage the blackened eye of a woman, every time I remove shrapnel from a bomb victim.

If you can't pray it away, it's not a real problem.

And it hurts her, but it's an okay hurt, but it hurts still, but it's good, but it hurts.

Patience, she says again. But she says it impatiently.

You do not write your life with words, the monster said. You write it with actions.

You are keeping the possibility [of peace] open. No wise leader would do anything less.

And I'll find you– You bet yer life on it– I'll find you– Keep calling for me, Viola– Cuz here I come.

A thing worth learning is worth learning well.

The answer is that it does not matter what you think, the monster said, because your mind will contradict itself a hundred times each day.

And changing for the better doesn't mean that he's ever going to reach good.

Ideals, my girl, she says. Always easier to believe in than live.

There's only one room on this planet for one side to be dominant, Todd.

That's another thing about Noise. Everything that's ever happened to you just keeps right on talking, for ever and ever.

The monster showed up just after midnight. As they do. Conor.