Neal Shusterman (born November 12, 1962) is an American writer of young-adult fiction. He won the National Book Award for Young People's Literature for Challenger Deep.
How many kids are in the Graveyard?" "A bunch. " "Who sends your supplies?" "George Washington. Or is it Abraham Lincoln? I forget. " "How often do you receive new arrivals?" "About as often as you beat your wife.
But this isn't a perfect world. The problem is people who think it is. -Connor
You don't like her, do you?" "Who, me? No, I love her dearly. Evil scheming bitches are my favorite kind of people. " (Risa)
So is darkness better than a heartfelt lie?
How can you do the right thing when you can't figure out what that is? When all you have before you are choices in various shades of wrong?
The kiss was the definition of perfect. True, it lacked the heat, the passion, the breathlessness of the living-world kiss she had given Milos, but this had something greater. More than a flash of fire, it had an unbreakable, perhaps eternal bond of connection. Mikey had transformed back into himself by the end of the kiss, and the moment their lips parted he knew, as he should have known long, long ago, that no one - not Milos, not another Afterlight, not anyone in any world - could ever come between him and Allie, from now until the day they met their maker.
You see, a conflict always begins with an issue - a difference of opinion, an argument. But by the time it turns into a war, the issue doesn't matter anymore, because now it's about one thing and one thing only: how much each side hates the other.
Lik the tree falling in the forest," says Ira. "Huh?" "You know, the old question - if a tree falls in a forest and no one's there to hear it, does it really make a sound?" Howie considers this. "Is it a pine forest, or oak?" "What's the difference?" "Oak is a much denser wood; it's more likely to be heard by someone on the freeway next to the forest where no one is.
You know that feeling you get when your leg falls asleep? Well, I suddenly had that feeling in my spine. Like termites were chewing through the marrow in my backbone.
Lord, if what I'm doing is wrong, then by all means strike me down. Otherwise set me free.
Tranq'd by your own gun,"Lev says. "How pathetic.
. . . the Statue of Liberty's got this invitation: 'Give me your tired, your poor, your reeking homeless--' 'Huddled masses,' said Ira. 'Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free. '. . . Okay, fine. So like everybody in the old countries says, 'Hey, I'm a huddled mass,' and they all wanna come over.
In this world, there is a fine line between enlightenment and brain damage.
Lev smiles. "Leave it to you to turn someone else's screwup into gold
Fine," Connor tells him. "Think about stuff until your head explodes. But the only thing I want to think about is surviving to eighteen. " I find your shallowness both refreshing and disappointing at the same time. Do you think that means I need therapy?
Eventually your body will learn the alliances it has to make with itself,' Kenny had said - as if Cam was a factory full of strike-prone workers, or worse, a clutch of slaves forced into unwanted labor.
Then she offers him a slim but sincere smile, and he reluctantly returns it. It doesn't bridge the gap between them, but at least it marks the spot where the bridge might be built.
And next to Allie, the screamer, once more reminded of his job, began to wail in Allie's ear. Reflexively Allie clapped her hand over his mouth. "That," she said, "is totally uncalled for. Don't do that again. Ever. " The screamer looked at her with worried eyes. "Are we clear on this subject?" said Allie. The screamer nodded and she removed her hand. "Can I scream a little?" he asked. "No," said Allie. "Your screaming days are over. " "Darn. " And he was quiet thereafter.
Either things happen for a reason, or they happen for no reason at all. Either one's life is a thread in a glorious tapestry or humanity is just a hopelessly tangled knot.
What, are you totally psycho?" I shouted. "Maybe I am!" he screamed back at me. "Maybe that's just what I am. Maybe I'm that quiet guy who suddenly goes nuts and then you find half the neighborhood in his freezer. " I gotta admit, that one stumped me for a second - but only for a second. "Which half?" I asked. "Huh?" "Which half of the neighborhood? Could you make it the people on the other side of Avenue T, because I never really liked them anyway.