#dystopia

I laughed under my breath, and it sounded bitter. “Listen to me. What am I talking about, worth it? Is any experience or bit of beauty worth the cost of my life? I know nothing but safety and self-preservation at all costs.” “And yet,” he said softly, “you’re risking everything to help me. ↗

— Kate Avery Ellison

#fantasy #beauty

Vaughn is talking about the heat, and his voice is so excited that it breaks into whispers at times. He loves his madness the way a bird loves the sky. ↗

— Lauren DeStefano

#insanity #madness #sever #the-chemical-garden-trilogy #vaughn

But my father goes on."And I've noticed other things,too.I think you're in love with Ky Markham.I think you want to find him,wherever he's gone. ↗

— Ally Condie

#romance #love

We love reproducing. It’s one of our favorite things. ↗

— Cassandra Clare

#dystopia #human-nature #humor #reproduction #shadowhunters

Suddenly exhausted, she closes her eyes and slips into nightmares again. Graveyards rising out of the ocean. Her friends’ corpses in the light of their burning school. Skeletons ripping open men's chests and crawling inside. She endures it patiently, waiting for the horror film to end and the theater to go dark, those precious few hours of blackout that are her only respite. ↗

— Isaac Marion

#dystopia #nightmares #tragic #men

I made so many promises when I arrived here. Now I'm not so sure. Now I'm worried. Now my mind is a traitor because my thoughts crawl out of bed every morning with darting eyes and sweating palms and nervous giggles that sit in my chest, build in my chest, threaten to burst through my chest, and the pressure is tightening and tightening and tightening Life around here isn't what I expected it to be. ↗

— Tehereh Mafi

#books #dystopian #love #sadness #life

If you put enough sheep together you have a herd- a force to be reckoned with. ↗

— Maria V. Snyder

#dystopian #dystopian-fiction #good-book #inside-out #insider

He was digging in his garden--digging, too, in his own mind, laboriously turning up the substance of his thought. Death--and he drove in his spade once, and again, and yet again. And all our yesterdays have lighted fools they way to dusty death. A convincing thunder rumbled through the words. He lifted another spadeful of earth. Why had Linda died? Why had she been allowed to become gradually less than human and at last... He shuddered. A good kissing carrion. He planted his foot on his spade and stamped it fiercely into the tough ground. As flies to wanton boys are we to the gods; they kills us for their sport. Thunder again; words that proclaimed themselves true--truer somehow than truth itself. And yet that same Gloucester had called them ever-gentle gods. Besides, thy best of rest is sleep, and that thou oft provok'st; yet grossly fear'st thy death which is no more. No more than sleep. Sleep. Perchance to dream. His spade struck against a stone; he stooped to pick it up. For in that sleep of death, what dreams...? ↗

— Aldous Huxley

#hamlet #shakespeare #death

He saw the rules of life clearly for the first time and they were simple: it was a game where Death was the only winner. ↗

— Sharon Sant

#fantasy #science-fiction #young-adult #death

...because of the foulness of her mother's emotional river, a current which ran swift, changing its path without warning... ↗

— Tamara Rose Blodgett

#descriptive-prose #dystopia #from-review #paranormal-romance #post-apocalyptic