Richard "Rick" Yancey (born November 4, 1962)[citation needed] is an American author who writes works of suspense, fantasy, and science fiction aimed at young adults.
You know how sometimes you tell yourself that you have a choice, but really you don't have a choice? Just because there are alternatives doesn't mean they apply to you.
Perhaps that is our doom, our human curse, to never really know one another.
It isn't that the lies are too beautiful to resist. It's that the truth is too hideous to face.
Is it any wonder the power this man held over me - this man who did not run from his demons like most of us do, but embraced them as his own, clutching them to his heart in a choke-hold grip. He did not try to escape them by denying them or drugging them or bargaining with them. He met them where they lived, in the secret place most of us keep hidden. Warthrop was Warthrop down to the marrow of his bones, for his demons defined him; they breathed the breath of life into him; and without them, he would go down, as most of us do, into the purgatorial fog of a life unrealized.
God doesn't call the equipped, son. God equips the called. And you have been called.
Then the door flew open and Mr. Faulks told us to head over to the gym. I thought that was really smart. Get all of us in one place so the aliens didn't have to waste a lot of ammunition.
Sometimes in my tent, late at night, I think I can hear the stars scraping against the sky.
Soon I will fall asleep and I will wake from this terrible dream. The endless night will fall, and I will rise. I long for that night. I do not fear it. I have had my fill of fear. I have stared too long into the abyss, and now the abyss stares back at me.
There's a hero in every heart waiting for the dragon to come out.
Sarcasm doesn't appear to work on him. If that's true, I'm in trouble: It's my normal mode of communication.
It wasn't aliens that first made us gear up for war; it was our fellow humans.
I am a shark, Cassie," he says slowly, drawing the words out, as if he might be speaking to me for the last time. Looking into my eyes with tears in his, as if he's seeing me for the last time. "A shark who dreamed he was a man.
Afterward I told his widow, "Your husband is dead, but at least he died laughing. ' I think she took some comfort in that. It is the second-best way to die, Will Henry. " He did not say what the best way was.
I have a very low tolerance for boredom and often think I would have missed out on books entirely if Id grown up in the Internet and video game age. Now I enjoy books for people of all ages, including children.
I was woefully ignorant in the social graces. I was being raised, after all, by Pellinore Warthrop.
Adolphus is not at his desk. That means he is somewhere in the Monstrumarium, has gone home for the day, or is dead.
I don't move. I wait behind my log, terrified. Over the past ten minutes, it's become such a dear friend, I consider naming it: Howard, my pet log.
What were they thinking? 'It's an alien apocalypse! Quick, grab the beer!
You never know when the truth will come home. You can't choose the time. The time chooses you.
There are things that are too terrible to remember, and there are things that are almost too wonderful to recall.