Revenge: it's a dream of flames fueled by scorched remains that are lit to a torch and brought back upon the one who burned you.
People decide they like one another, based upon the color of their shells that they wear on the outside of them. And then they decide to leave one another, based upon the color of their souls that is who they really are underneath the shell. I think it should be the other way around. I think people should decide they like one another, based upon the color of their souls and then decide to leave one another if they run into the shells. But then it's not even that. What if they loved the soul and then broke down each others' shells when they ran into them? Then nobody would leave anybody and everybody would know what love means.
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People decide they like one another, based upon the color of their shells that they wear on the outside of them. And then they decide to leave one another, based upon the color of their souls that is who they really are underneath the shell. I think it should be the other way around. I think people should decide they like one another, based upon the color of their souls and then decide to leave one another if they run into the shells. But then it's not even that. What if they loved the soul and then broke down each others' shells when they ran into them? Then nobody would leave anybody and everybody would know what love means.
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Be dangerous, darling, for the whole world rises and falls at your feet.
Bill suited the action to the word, getting up and leaning over the handlebars and pumping the pedals at a lunatic rate. Looking at Bill's back, which was amazingly broad for a boy of eleven-going-on-twelve, watching it work under the duffel coat, the shoulders slanting first one way and then the other as he shifted his weight from one pedal to the other, Richie suddenly became sure that they were invulnerable...they would live forever and ever.
This isn__ how things were supposed to happen. I was supposed to be me. Not this.