What Do I Believe? I Do Not

I Met Him While I Was Imprisoned," I Say, And My Voice Sounds Far Away Even To Me. "i Was Just Curious." "i Wouldn't Judge Him Too Harshly," Says Fernando. "jeanine Can Be Extraordinarily Persuasive To Those Who Aren't Naturally Suspicious. I Have Always Been Naturally Suspicious." ... "yeah," I Say. "so Have I.

What Do--" Tobias's Voice. Tobias! "oh My God. Oh--" "spare Me Your Blubbering, Okay? Peter Says. "she's Not Dead; She's Just Paralyzed. It'll Only Last For About A Minute. Now Get Ready To Run." I Don't Understand. How Does Peter Know? "let Me Carry Her," Tobias Says. "no. You're A Better Shot Than I Am. Take My Gun. I'll Carry Her.

If Utopian Fiction Became The New Trend, I Wouldn't Read It.

That’s One Way Of Looking At It. I Prefer To Look At It Another Way—which Is That If They Are Persistent Enough, Even Tiny Drops Of Water, Over Time, Can Change The Rock Forever. And It Will Never Change Back.

Grief Is Not As Heavy As Guilt, But It Takes More Away From You.