The apprentice and the master love the master in different ways.
Sometimes he seems like a droid--or a drone. Fang of Nine. Fang2-D2.
I blame Jeb for letting you be such a smart aleck. ” I stared at her. “I blame you for altering my DNA! I mean, I have wings, lady! What were you thinking?
Yeah,” said Iggy. “But what now? Let’s do something fun. ” I guess being on the run from bloodthirsty Erasers and insane scientists wasn’t enough fun for him. Kids today are so spoiled.
Do I open it? Do I open it? Of course I freaking open it!
My life would never contain a convenient, pain-saving plan when it could stretch a problem out into an endless agony of uncertainty and torture.
What are you doing in there, waxing your mustache?” Iggy yelled, pounding on the bathroom door. I yanked the door open and pushed him backward hard, making him stagger. “I don’t have a mustache, you idiot!” Iggy giggled and put his arms up to protect himself in case I punched him. “And you know what?” I added. “You don’t have one either. Well, maybe in a couple years. You can always hope. ” I left him in the hallway, anxiously fingering his upper lip.
Truth is never negative. Only one's perception of it is.
The dictionary is based on the hypothesis -- obviously an unproven one -- that languages are made up of equivalent synonyms.
the time for prizes and competitions at art festivals is over. Competition is too closely tied to values that are alien to the arts.
Ive read an awful lot of books, Ive read alot of awful books