- The graveyard kept its secrets.
- "It must be good," said Silas, to have somewhere that you belong. Somewhere that's home." There was nothing wistful in the way he said this. His voice was drier than deserts, and he said it as if he were simply stating something unarguable.
- He was eight years old, and the world beyond the graveyard held no terrors for him.
- "Because there are mysteries. Because there are things that people are forbidden to speak about. Because there are things they do not remember."
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- Bod shrugged. "So?" he said. "It's only death. I mean, all of my best friends are dead."
- "Yes." Silas hesitated. "They are. And they are, for the most part, done with the world. You are not. You're alive, Bod. That means you have infinite potential. You can do anything, make anything, dream anything. If you change the world, the world will change. Potential. Once you're dead, it's gone. Over. You've made what you've made, dreamed your dream, written your name. You may be buried here, you may even walk. But that potential is finished.
- Fear is contagious. You can catch it. Sometimes all it takes is for someone to say that they're scared for the fear to become real.
- At the best of times his face was unreadable. Now his face was a book written in a language long forgotten, in an alphabet unimagined.
- Silas said, "People want to forget the impossible. It makes their world safer."
- You're always you, and that don't change, and you're always changing, and there's nothing you can do about it.
- Truly, life is wasted on the living, Nobody Owens.
sep 7 2013 ∞
sep 19 2013 +
sep 19 2013 +