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Once we turn, it’s new pretty, middle pretty, late pretty.” Shay dropped her arms, and her board stopped drifting. “Then dead pretty. ↗

— Scott Westerfeld

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Facebook also has a fundamental characteristic that has proven key to its appeal in country after country—you only see friends there. ↗

— David Kirkpatrick

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Bears are simultaneously so graceful and so strong. Bears know who they are, but they often don’t know who you are, which is why they kill you. ↗

— Mike Birbiglia

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Had you been lying all along? Mum gently stroked my hair. I whispered into her shoulder. “I can’t go back. Not yet. I can’t leave.” And she held my head tight to her chest and wrapped her arms around me. “You don’t have to,” she said, rocking me. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do, not anymore.” And I cried. ↗

— Lucy Christopher

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Sleep is just a good idea. I bow to the god caffeine. ↗

— Jo-Ann Mapson

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He’s called you, like, four times in the past week. And seriously, you should be embarrassed. I’ve never met anyone who has as much phone sex as you two.” My eyes narrowed on her. “How do you know about the phone sex?” “Duh. I pick up the phone and listen.” I gaped at her. ↗

— Gena Showalter

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As a business owner, you should share everything you know too. This is anathema to most in the business world. Businesses are usually paranoid and secretive. They think they have proprietary this and competitive advantage that. Maybe a rare few do, but most don’t. And those that don’t should stop acting like those that do. Don’t be afraid of sharing. ↗

— Jason Fried

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My prayer as you read this book is that you will find comfort for the disappointment of unanswered prayer, but also courage to continue on the epic journey that prayer is. ↗

— Gerald Lawson Sittser

#courage

Sir, this lane is for ten items or less. I’m counting thirteen items in your cart, including that hemorrhoid cream. And while hemorrhoids might give you a reason to be nasty, they don’t give you a reason to be in this lane. ↗

— J.A. Konrath

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What do you know of poetry?” Ambrose said without bothering to turn around. “I know a limping verse when I hear it,” I said. “But this isn’t even limping. A limp has rhythm. This is more like someone falling down a set of stairs. Uneven stairs. With a midden at the bottom.” “It is a sprung rhythm,” he said, his voice stiff and offended. “I wouldn’t expect you to understand.” “Sprung?” I burst out with an incredulous laugh. “I understand that if I saw a horse with a leg this badly ‘sprung,’ I’d kill it out of mercy, then burn its poor corpse for fear the local dogs might gnaw on it and die. ↗

— Patrick Rothfuss

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