Trust is dangerous.
Some suggestions for you :
I don't know why I still feel this pit in my stomach whenever I get a moment to think. I know what the pit is, too; I feel lonely. But I'm not alone, I keep telling myself.
Check this out, Nine says. He holds up a small purple stone and then places it on the back of his hand. The stone slides into his hand—through it. Nine turns his hand over just as the stone pops out in his palm. Pretty cool, right? he asks me, waggling his eyebrows.
Well, it turns out a hero's lot is not glory or reward, but sacrifice.
You know the saying: he who doesn't understand history is doomed to repeat it. And when it's repeated, the stakes are doubled.
Henri always said: the price of a memory is the memory of the sorrow it brings.
For the first time, I'm not just nervous about what's to come; I'm scared.
Santa Teresa is a convent that doubles as an orphanage for girls. I'm now the oldest out of thirty-seven, a distinction I've held for six months, after the last girl who turned eighteen left. At eighteen we must all make the choice to strike out on our own or to forge a life within the Church.
IN THE BEGINNING THERE WERE NINE OF US. We left when we were young, almost too young to remember. Almost.
If he had one true love, then he wanted you to have one, too.
Then, as if realizing we might be freaked out, the guy adds, ‘Hey. I'm Adam.