stranger

Um, thanks,_ Jackson told her. __nd your name is_?_____ Margaret, Margaret Van Der Graaf,_ she answered with another eerie smile. Her teeth were so white that they looked bleached.__an Der Graaf?_ Jackson repeated, trying to stifle his laughter. He didn__ want to be rude to the only person in sight, to this kind-hearted stranger who was offering to help him, but_ Van Der Graaf?__hat are you laughing at?_ Margaret asked with curiosity, flashing him a calculating gaze. __ like my name. If you__e going to be a jerk, then I won__ help you. You can stay out here on the street through the night for all I care.___Harsh,_ said Jackson, giving her a quizzical glance back. There was something __ff_ about her, something that Jackson couldn__ quite place, something that bordered on horrible loneliness and longing. __ho else lives here, Margaret Van Der Graaf?_ He couldn__ resist saying her name aloud. Despite its hilarity, it had a nice ring to it. __ho else lives here?_ he urged.__e, myself and I,_ said Margaret simply, snickering when she saw his horrified and annoyed expression

Her arms groped forward to guide her when her tears blocked her vision in darkness. Then she couldn't run any more. She sank to her knees and began to cry in her terror. She wanted Gary.She suddenly felt strong arms around her. She bent her head to bury it in Gary's shoulder, trembling in the darkness.Whimpering like a small animal in a trap, she pushed herself closer to him and said in a choked voice, "I'm so frightened!""I know, my love," the voice said. "I'm so sorry you were hurt."She felt herself being pulled up to him, his grip around her tight. It was a strange feeling in this pitch-black hallway, where not even the light of the moon cast any illumination. The lips she touched were cold and yet they responded to her with an unusual warmth. His hands massaged her back. Something, Melanie thought, was wrong with that. The hands were too smooth, not like a plastered wrist would feel."Gary?" she asked, backing away. She didn't trust what she couldn't see."My love," the voice whispered, "there is no need to fear now. I shall protect you from those who mean you harm.

From the beginnings of literature, poets and writers have based their narratives on crossing borders, on wandering, on exile, on encounters beyond the familiar. The stranger is an archetype in epic poetry, in novels. The tension between alienation and assimilation has always been a basic theme.

Smile at a stranger. See what happens.

Never floss with a stranger.

For, to be a stranger is naturally a very positive relation; it is a specific form of interaction.

Truth is stranger than fiction fiction has to make sense.

For truth is always strange stranger than fiction.

You don't have to sort of enhance reality. There is nothing stranger than truth.

Truth is always strange, stranger than fiction.

Death most resembles a prophet who is without honor in his own land or a poet who is a stranger among his people.

A complete stranger has the capacity to alter the life of another irrevocably. This domino effect has the capacity to change the course of an entire world. That is what life is; a chain reaction of individuals colliding with others and influencing their lives without realizing it. A decision that seems miniscule to you, may be monumental to the fate of the world.

There is no loneliness greater than the loneliness of a failure. The failure is a stranger in his own house.

You can just be your self__ stranger, never its friend, because you are mortal and it is immortal!

A stranger's eyes see clearest.

I was a stranger and ye took me in.

As in so many cases of sexual abuse within the family, it is much more complicated than had it been done by a stranger.

Everyone, this is the new girl. Elder knows her. New girl, this is everyone._ A few people look up politely; some actually smile. Most, however, look wary at best, disgusted at worse. The nurse closest to me jabs her finger behind her ear and starts whispering to nobody.__hat__ wrong with her?_ I ask Harley as he leads me to the table he was sitting at.__h, don__ worry, we__e all mad here.__ giggle, mostly from nerves. __t__ a good thing I read Alice in Wonder-land . I definitely think I__e fallen into the rabbit hole.___ead what?_ Harley asks.__ever mind._ All around me, eyes follow my every move.__ook,_ I say loudly. __ know I look different. But I__ just a person, like you._ I hold my head up high, looking them all in the eyes, trying to hold their stares for as long as possible.__ou tell __m,_ says Harley with another Cheshire grin.