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There are bad things in the world. There’s no getting away from that. But that doesn’t mean nothing can be done about them. You can’t abandon life just because it’s scary, and just because sometimes you get hurt.
I like to stay cozy with my paranoia, not pass her around to my friends and family.
If you can’t stop the bad thoughts from coming to visit, at least you can make fun of them while they’re hanging around.
“That’s Doctor Smart-ass,” I said. “I didn’t spend eight years in insult college to be called Mister.”
“You’re in America now,” I said. “Our idea of diplomacy is showing up with a gun in one hand and a sandwich in the other and asking which you’d prefer.” Anastasia’s mouth curved up at one corner. “You brought a sandwich?” “Who do I look like, Kissinger?”
Like “love,” “hope” is one of those ridiculously disproportional words that by all rights should be a lot longer.
I checked my gear, my pockets, my shoelaces, and realized that I had crossed the line between making sure I was ready and trying to postpone the inevitable.
“Stop learning, start dying,” Ebenezar said, in the tone of a man quoting a bedrock-firm maxim. “You’re never too old to learn.”
Maybe it’s better to look stupid but strong than it is to look smart but weak. I don’t know. I’m not sure I want to believe that the world stage bears that strong a resemblance to high school.
See, here’s the thing. Morgan was right: you can’t win them all. But that doesn’t mean that you give up. Not ever. Morgan never said that part—he was too busy living it.
