R.J. Lawrence

He celebrated his solitude with a frown.

The door closed and darkness claimed the room.

Against ignorance, God Himself is helpless.

Within her simple, terrified mind, swift calculations of distance and speed were at work, and her face advertised the disappointing results.

They waited and watched, while the clocks seemed to resist time.

At last, the clock settled in the right place.

You get to take what this world gives you.

As she gobbled up the miles, big ravines appeared before her, their starving mouths open for the swallow.

It's bad luck not to believe in luck.

Claire's face looking pretty and serene, as if she were gifted with a madness that left her ignorant of worry.

She looked at him, his black, depthless eyes like boiling wells of oil.

She looked at his face. So old and wrinkled. So beautiful and just right.

Never apologize for correct actions.

Hopeful people are more easily controlled, but the volume must be managed. Too much hope leaves a person emboldened and resistant. Too little leaves them disabled and useless. But just the right amount of hope subjugates them. They cradle it like a dying ember, and they'll do anything to keep the wind from extinguishing it. They'll serve.

When the people are not enlightened enough to exercise intelligent control, you take it from them, not to command their lives, but to create a safe depository for the ultimate powers.

Her eyes flashed seven kinds of hell.

You have to get angry in the face of bad situations. It's the most effective way to escape the bridles of despair.