—¿Te gusta leer? —pregunto señalando el libro que sobresale de ella.No es un libro de texto. Es un libro de verdad, algo que creía desaparecido en esta generación de maníacos de internet. Lo cojo y me siento frente a él.—¿De qué género es? Y, por favor, no me respondas que de ciencia ficción.Él apoya la espalda en el respaldo de la silla y sonríe como si acabara de ganar algo. Bueno, quizá lo haya hecho. Estoy aquí sentada, ¿verdad?—¿Qué importancia tiene el género si el libro es bueno? —replica.

I drank from the crisp mountain stream, tasting filtered sky with a mossy undertone. I’ve never understood how being loved fully could change your entire perspective of the world. I only ever understood the wistfulness of it, and the longing and the frothy, violent bits. The mixed up, rained on parts. The escaped bits that smudge and bleed through. Slowly, I am coming to terms with how vulnerable I am to you, flat on my back like a submissive wolf pup. Daisy petals line your eyelashes, juice of a nectarine flavors your tongue. The side of your mouth twitches, hazy dreamscapes overtaking your mind while we bathe in the glorious autumn devastation.

The wind swoops over the tenements on Orchard Street, where some of those starry-eyed dreams have died and yet other dreams are being born into squalor and poverty, an uphill climb. It gives a slap to the laundry stretched on lines between tenements, over dirty, broken streets where, even at this hour, hungry children scour the bins for food. The wind has existed forever. It has seen much in this country of dreams and soap ads, old horrors and bloodshed. It has played mute witness to its burning witches, and has walked along a Trail of Tears; it has seen the slave ships release their human cargo, blinking and afraid, into the ports, their only possession a grief they can never lose.

Come here.” Nico reached over and gave Katty a great big hug. “Have I told you how much I love you lately?” Katty immediately turned soft. She had a big weakness for Nico. Just hearing the word 'love' instantly made her melt. “No, but I like to hear it.” She smiled back at him with a smile that illuminated her face. She did like to hear it. She hadn't know Nico for very long, but there was just something so awesome about him that she felt very loved. He may have been a Vampire, and had a heart as black as night, but deep down he was a good man. He knew how to love a girl when he found the right one. He loved her completely, and without any doubt.

Well I'm not going to hope that you get hurt, but if you do, remember that you're my damsel in distress, and no one is allowed to carry you.""I don't remember signing a contract.""All the more reason to promise me now.""What if you're not around when I get hurt?""Send word, I`ll come running.""How big an injury does it have to be? Because sometimes I do this thing when I stand up too quickly and my ankle kind of twists a little---""Sounds serious. You don't want to put any weight on that. I`d better carry you the next time that happens.""What if I skin my knee?""I`ll carry you.""Charley horse?""I`ll carry you.""Chipped toenail?""Not worth taking a risk. I`ll carry you.

The way I figure it, everyone gets a miracle. Like, I will probably never be struck by lightening, or win a Nobel Prize, or become the dictator of a small nation in the Pacific Islands, or contract terminal ear cancer, or spontaneously combust. But if you consider all the unlikely things together, at least one of them will probably happen to each of us. I could have seen it rain frogs. I could have stepped foot on Mars. I could have been eaten by a whale. I could have married the Queen of England or survived months at sea. But my miracle was different. My miracle was this: out of all the houses in all the subdivisions in all of Florida, I ended up living next door to Margo Roth Spiegelman.

They had pulled me from the hemorrhaging, dying body of my mother and turned me over to the care of the man who was not my father. He had taken me home to their tiny apartment above the old hardware store and done what little he knew to take care of me.It took less than six weeks for him to realize his mistake. Maybe even less than six hours, but he never abandoned me. He clung to me as though I was the last remnant of some great and powerful love.And that gave me hope that maybe my mother was really something else and not just some girl who got knocked up by a guy whose name she didn’t even know. She was something special, someone worthy of a man’s loyalty and devotion.--Rocky Evans

Fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, lemme tell you. Those are big years. Everybody always thinks of it as a time of adolescence—just getting through to the real part of your life—but it's more than that. Sometimes your whole life happens in those years, and the rest of your life it's just the same story playing out with different characters. I could die tomorrow and have lived the main ups and downs of life. Pain. Loss. Love. And what you all so fondly refer to as wisdom. Wanna know the difference between adult wisdom and young adult wisdom? You have the ability to look back at your past and interpret it. I have the ability to look at my present and live it with my whole body.

Can you identify the source preventing you from feeling good every single day, from loving yourself unconditionally and making your dreams come true? Is it a voice in your head or a gut wrenching ache that compromises your inner peace and doesn’t allow you to accept the love around you? Is there one thing, or maybe many things, keeping you from forgiving your past and moving forward, tormenting you with lies like “You don’t deserve real love so just settle for whatever you can get,” “You’re not smart enough to achieve your dream so don’t even try,” or “Look at your past… you should hate yourself way more than you actually do!”?Welcome to your Little Monster.

But life is beautiful, Sariel!’ Gabriel said, trying to convince him. ‘Watch the sunrise sometime lying in the scented flowers of the field, or the shooting stars at the end of summer! Read a couple of really exciting books or lose yourself in the unselfconscious smiles of children. Have a swim in a clear mountain lake or take a run among trees clothed in autumn colours. If you can see the good in Earth, your own existence will become the richer for it!’‘That all sounds very well and good, but you haven’t convinced me,’ the deep-voiced angel murmured and Ariel laughed. ‘My friend, Gabriel was very gently trying to suggest that you should fall in love and that will better dispose you to the world!

I imagined the lies the valedictorian was telling them right now. About the exciting future that lies ahead. I wish she'd tell them the truth: Half of you have gone as far in life as you're ever going to. Look around. It's all downhill from here. The rest of us will go a bit further, a steady job, a trip to Hawaii, or a move to Phoenix, Arizona, but out of fifteen hundred how many will do anything truly worthwhile, write a play, paint a painting that will hang in a gallery, find a cure for herpes? Two of us, maybe three? And how many will find true love? About the same. And enlightenment? Maybe one. The rest of us will make compromises, find excuses, someone or something to blame, and hold that over our hearts like a pendant on a chain.

So, how is it that you don’t have a girlfriend?” I asked boldly.Joel shrugged.“Have you ever had a girlfriend?” There was no way that he’d never had a girlfriend.He shrugged again.“You’re not serious.”“You’re surprised?”“I’m sorry, do you own a mirror?”Joel laughed in that I’ll-never-understand-women kind of way. “I’ve never wanted one,” he admitted, though it seemed that there was more to it.“What? A mirror? Or a girlfriend?”He laughed again, even harder this time. “A girlfriend.”“Are you gay?” He smiled. “No, I’m not gay.”“Oh.” I blushed. Why was I being so nosy all of a sudden?

You expect me to believe you're a witch? A broom riding, cauldron stirring, poison apple witch? Witches are Fae, Angelina," Dasan mocked."No, you creeper, witches are not Fae. Maybe some are, but there are mortals who practice witchcraft, and I'm one of them!" Angelina almost spit the words at him. "And we don't ride brooms, get real! How Hans Christian Anderson are you, anyway? As for poison apples, you'll be lucky to not get served one in your lifetime! I mean, you and your buddy here turn into giant... what are you... dogs... but you can't believe in a little earth magic? Grow up!""See, this is the kind of conversation that would crop up on like a third or fourth date," I chimed in, unable to help myself.-told by Finley in The Sacred Oath

Do you ever wear leather?" the guy asks."What?""Leather. Do you like leather?""It doesn't exactly wipe me out.""I like to see boys in leather."I look at him cool. "Okay," I say, "what is it you want and how much are you willing to pay for it?""I've got a leather jacket upstairs...Would you put it on?""Just put it on?""I'll go and get it." He leaves the horror hole and returns a few minutes later holding a leather flying jacket with a lambswool collar. There are tears in the jacket's sleeves and the lambswool is yellow with age. John Wayne could've worn it in one of those crappy war films he made. "Put it on," the guy says.I give him a spiky smile and put on the jacket. "Okay, where's the plane and what time's take-off?""Drop your jeans and turn around.

Do you ever wear leather?" the guy asks."What?""Leather. Do you like leather?""It doesn't exactly wipe me out.""I like to see boys in leather."I look at him cool. "Okay," I say, "what is it you want and how much are you willing to pay for it?""I've got a leather jacket upstairs...Would you put it on?""Just put it on?""I'll go and get it."He leaves the horror hole and returns a few minutes later holding a leather flying jacket with a lambswool collar. There are tears in the jacket's sleeves, and the lambswool is yellow with age. John Wayne could've worn it in one of those crappy war films he made. "Put it on," the guy says.I give him a spiky smile and put on the jacket. "Okay, where's the plane, and what time's take-off?""Drop your jeans and turn around.