novel

The characters act for reasons that they can__ control and, as readers, we have to believe in their motivations, their sense of choice and in the reality of their suffering, even though, deep down, we know it__ all just puppetry on the part of the writer.

People believe in everything except the reality.

The one thing is fiction in a novel and the other thing is reality. With fiction you don't make a fuss - you can 'beat it' and there's never enough. At least in my opinion - cause there are people, who complain about style intensity in literature: they prefer cereals with milk than abyssinian bitches roasted alive on bringhausers and watered with ya-yoo juice.

Your passions don__ have to connect to one another and no one needs to sign off on them. Passion isn__ logical_ it__ only the fuel which keeps our souls alive. Let it be that simple.

Love is not for thrill-seekers, dreamers, or children with short attention spans. And you, son, fit into all three of those categories.

Don't starve an instinct with a lie on, Never hit or deceive a wounded lion. He heals faster than you can imagine And hurts even more when in famine.

I__ have to prove to everyone, including Ellia, that I was more than some guy she used to know, that what we shared had and still mattered. She may have forgotten the promise we made on the beach, but I hadn__, and it was up to me to backup those words with action. Memories and ghosts were for the dead. Living things moved, and I was never one to stand still." ~Liam

The words __ love you_ are worthless when you don__ know who the 'I' is in that statement.

She was my go-to person. I__ tell her everything. Now, all of those late-night phone calls, all the sleepovers at her house because I couldn__ deal with stuff at home, all the crying on her shoulder. It__ all gone. It__ like if she doesn__ know, then it didn__ happen, and if it didn__ happen then what exactly am I holding on to?_ ~Stacey

Who cares about fault? As my dad would say, __lame is like your rear-end and reflection. Seeing either always leaves you looking back._ I__ more worried about what__ in front of me. And right now . . . the view is all messed up._ ~ Ellia

It__ like returning to a familiar room and noticing objects had been moved while you were gone__ chair here, a picture frame there. Items that were once brand new were suddenly broken in and worn from age. It was all very subtle, but enough to suspect paranormal activity or a cruel practical joke. When no one else saw what you saw, the freak factor really kicked in, because you were singled out and left questioning reality." ~Ellia

You can__ be friends with someone you have feelings for. It__l just be a constant reminder of what you can__ have. It__ like putting boiling water in an ice cold glass. It__ gonna bust and make a mess.

Hope can be foolish or misguided, but there was no such thing as false hope. Hope was always true even when there was no evidence to support its claim._ - Liam

The big-ass hole, all of the wreckage and mess. I'd done that. Me,

You've got drama too?' 'Doesn't everyone?' 'A side effect of breathing, I guess.

Ah, yeah. Yeah, tis awful all right. Well, your Mam wanted me to talk to you about it, but__e stopped; he didn__ know what else to say.__eah? Ah, I know the score, Dad. She wants me to be careful, is it?___h, no. Well, yeah; there__ that, of course. No, she wanted_ well, if you__ any questions, youknow?_ I wasn__ sure if he wanted me to say yes, or if he just wanted me to say no, and save himhaving to be awkward. He looked lost. I felt like I wanted to save him__o, I__e no questions, Dad. It__ all right, shur._ He looked at me then. His eyes went wet, likehe was going to start bawling. If we were in a film, he might have hugged me. But we were inLimerick, so he just said:__ell, so,_ and put his one glove back on.From The Boys of Summer

Mee and Ow sat in the shade of a mango tree and were doing their make-up. Both of them wore gloves that reached all the way up to their elbows, to keep the tropical sun off their skins. They looked briefly at Maier, with the curiosity usually reserved for a passing dog. It was too early for professional enthusiasm.

Be careful what you tell me. You could end up in my next novel.