More on this book
Community
Kindle Notes & Highlights
Restless and empty inside and hungry for something more than just ordinary things.
Met was one of those many people who look to others to tell him what to do and what to think.
What was the point of saying words if we didn’t know what they meant? We were like blind people pretending to see.
What it was really about was him being the hero of the story, and no one else.
Nothing looks more lovely than something that’s about to end, and that’s true even if you yourself are going to be the cause of its ending.
I knew that big big things would happen now as a result, but I couldn’t make myself care what they would be. It was like I’d turned to stone myself.
It was like he felt more comfortable and safe with cold and dark and lonely than he did with ordinary and friendly and warm.
There’s got to be a point where you choose your path and stick to it no matter what.
‘I mean, wherever you are, that’s here, and that’s the only place you can be. Here or nowhere.’
Okay, Tina was right, we might end up being speared, or spiked up on a tree, but everyone had to die some time. People drowned, and got eaten by leopards, and died from infected slinker bites, and cancer, and sap-burns. Babies got born that couldn’t suck, and starved while their mothers’ breasts ached with milk. Everyone had to die, and death was usually nasty nasty, but there were still choices in life, it could still be better or worse.
There are lots of different stories branching away all the time from every single thing that happens. As soon as a moment has gone, different versions of it start to be remembered and told about. And some of them carry on, and some die out, and you can’t know in advance which version will last and which won’t.
They’d use the things we’d found, to hunt us down for daring to find them.
