Inspirational quotes by Susan Ee.
Sometimes, as we're stumbling along in the dark, we hit something good.
I look up to say something but he puts his finger to my lips and whispers, “Don’t talk. You’ll just spoil my fantasy of rescuing an innocent damsel in distress as soon as you open your mouth.
In the long second before everyone absorbs what just happened, I see the angel rolling his eyes heavenward, like a teenager in the presence of overwhelming lameness. Some people just have no sense of gratitude.
I’m fine, Mom. Thanks for asking.”...“Of course you’re fine.” She keeps walking. “You’re the devil’s bride and these are his creatures.”...“I’m not the devil’s bride.” “He carried you out of the fire and is letting you visit us from the dead. Who else would have those privileges except his bride?
Was that you, Pooky Bear?
If we get separated there’s not much hope of us ever meeting anywhere, but I need to keep up the pretense of hope because that may be all we have.
I have better things to do.’‘Like what?’He opens one eye and looks at me. ‘Like convince a stubborn girl to admit she’s madly in love with me.’I can’t help but smile.‘So if it’s not a pig farm that you want, what is it?’ he asks.I swallow. ‘How about a safe place to live where we don’t have to scrounge for food or fight for it?’‘It’s yours.’‘That’s it? All I have to do is ask?’‘No. There’s a price for everything.’‘I knew it. What is it?’‘Me.
His pupils dilate when he sees me. His lips part as he momentarily forgets to marshal his expression, and I could swear he stops breathing for several heartbeats.
The feedback from the speakers changes and begins blasting death metal music so loudly into the sky that I swear the bridge suspensions are vibrating.The twins were in charge of the music selection.I catch sight of them on the side of the bridge, each with an arm raised, holding up their forefingers and pinkies in a devil sign, head-banging to the beat. They’re mouthing the words to the garbled voice screaming over the intense electric guitar and drums blasting out of the speakers. They might look pretty badass if it weren’t for their hobo clown outfits.It’s the loudest party the Bay Area has ever heard.
He is the one pocket of warmth in a sea of ice.
So that’s your sister?” asks Dee in a quiet voice.“Yeah.”“The one you risked your life for?”“Yeah.”The twins nod politely in that automatic way that people do when they don’t want to say something insulting.“Your family any better?” I ask.Dee and Dum look at each other, assessing.“Nah,” says Dee.“Not really,” says Dum at the same time.
My mother hasn’t asked the questions that a normal person would ask, and I’m grateful for it. It’s like the world has become so crazy that it makes sense to her now. I turn on the engine and drive us out. ‘Thanks, Mom. For coming to rescue me.’ My voice comes out reedy and a little wobbly. I clear my throat. ‘Not every mom would do that in a world like this.
Who will guard us against the guardians?
They always always understimate women
When a man in purple and screaming pink stares at you, you know it's time to change your appearance.
You should be with a nice human boy. One who takes your orders and puts up with your demands. Someone who dedicates his life to keeping you safe and well fed. Someone who can make you happy. Someone you can be proud of.
NO!" Raffe grips me as if he can bind my soul to my body. An upside-down view of the doorway shows up in my field of vision. Smoke waft through it. Although the pain obscures Raffe's warmth, I feel the presure of his hug, the rocking of our bodies back and forth as he repeats the word, "No.
You don't even like me, remember?" That's what I try to say. What actually comes out of my mouth is closer to a baby's first attempt at babbling. "Shh." He runs his fingertips along my cheek, caressing my face. "Hush. I'm right here." He looks at me with deep anguish in his eyes. Like there's so much he wants to tell me but feel it's too late now. I want to stroke his face and tell him that it will be okay. That everything will be all right. And I wish so badly that it would be.
We're at war.On the verge of an apocalypse filled with monsters and torture in a nightmare world.And I'm standing here, a moonstruck teenager pining for an enemy soldier. What am I, crazy?This time, I'm the first to turn away.
What's with all the cheering over the apocalypse, anyway? Oh, yay, we get to kill poor helpless humans.""The excitement over the apocalypse had nothing to do with humans.""Could have fooled me.""Humans are incidental.""Killing and destroying an entire species is incidental?" I can't help but sound like I'm accusing him (Raffe), even though I know he wasn't part of the plan to wipe us out.Or at least, I think he wasn't personally involved, but I don't really know that, do I?"Your people have been doing it to all kinds of species.""That's not the same.""Why not?
One second, we are surrounded by angels holding their swords. The next second, one of their arms drops and his sword thunks to the grass like a lead weight. The angel stares at his blade uncomprehendingly.Another sword drops.Then another.Then a whole bunch, until all the other unsheathed swords fall, thudding on the grass like subjects bowing down to their queen.The angels stare at the swords at their feet in utter shock.Then everyone looks at me. Actually, it’s probably more accurate to say they’re looking at my sword.“Whoa.” That’s about the most intelligent thing I can say right now. Did Raffe say something about an archangel sword intimidating other angel swords if she could gain their respect?I swivel my eyes to look at the blade in my hands. Was that you, Pooky Bear?
The only thing that matters in the end is your own survival. It's what humans and cockroaches are best at.
So does anyone have a good survival strategy, or is there no hope for getting out of this nightmare?’ asks the Colonel.‘We came up with a big, fat zero. I don’t know how we’re going to survive the blood hunt,’ says Dee.‘That wasn’t the nightmare I was referring to,’ says the Colonel. ‘Death by stupid comments is what I was talking about.
I watch the beautiful performance with an ache in my chest.Then, just when I can’t stand the sadness anymore, a dancer floats out from the side of the stage. A dancer in ragged clothes, filthy and half starved. He’s not even in ballet shoes. He’s just barefoot as he glides out to take his place in the dance.The other dancers turn to him, and it’s clear that he is one of them. One of the lost ones. By the look on their faces, they weren’t expecting him. This is not part of the practiced show. He must have seen them onstage and joined in.Amazingly, the dance continues without a missed beat. The newcomer simply glides into place, and the final dancer who should have danced solo with her missing partner dances with the newcomer.It is full of joy, and the ballerina actually laughs. Her voice is clear and high, and it lifts us all.
If I’m super lucky, I might be able to fight him off and maybe even the warrior after him, but it’s not a long-term survival strategy. By long-term, I mean the next ten minutes.We’re screwed.
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