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My heart shifted a little in my chest it seemed to swell and beat against my bones until I couldn't hear.

Ann Aguirre

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Ann Aguirre
Age: 54
Born: 1970
Born: August 27
Author
Novelist
Science Fiction Writer
Writer
the United States of America
Ellen Connor
Ava Gray
Heart
Beat
Bones
Seemed
Beats
Couldn
Swell
Hear
Shifted
Littles
Chest
Little
Chests

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Are you afraid of falling, baby? No, I’m afraid of landing. [He’s laughing, and I’m smiling.] Stupid idiot smile, don’t you know what comes next?
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His reply offers infinite solace in a single word. Always.
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I think my head's a minefield strewn with triggers, and maybe if I survive each explosion, what emerges from the wreckage will be me, really, truly me.
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As I dive between the legs of a big Gunnar, I see Mair wind up and slam her shockstick hard as she can between the V of another guy’s thighs. Falling, he makes a noise that I can’t say I’ve heard a human utter before, sort of like I imagine a puppy would sound being put through a juicer.
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This is the way we win over our enemies, not with bigger weapons, or faster ships, but with human courage, ingenuity, and sacrifice. Don't lose hope. We've faced the darkness before-it has nothing new to teach us. As we go about our lives, let us remember the example Dr. Navarro set for us. At the right time, anyone can be a hero.
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. . . and I don’t expect him to suborn his life into mine any more than I would change my dreams for him. We’re not one soul, one being, however much we love each other.
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My heart raced. He needs you, I thought. Don't let him down. I couldn't remember ever being so happy... or so scared.
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You don’t need to be afraid of falling // when there’s someone around to catch you.
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How can you miss someone who’s right beside you?
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For love to flourish there has to be trust. Promises don’t matter as much as personal choice.
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He is not the same person as when we met, but . . . neither am I. Time has refined us, but instead of pushing us apart, we’re closer than ever.
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You could miss someone, but it did no good to fixate on loss. I wished I had the ready words of a Breeder or the ability to comfort with a soft touch. I didn't. Instead I had daggers and determination. That would have to do.
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But it was like a dance across a field strewn with razors, and I bled with every step I took.
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After people have gone, you forget their faults, and you recall the ideal more than the person.
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I want to drag you off and hide you away,” he whispered. “Why?” “I always knew you were beautiful, but now everyone else will too. I won’t be able to keep other boys away from you, and it’ll make me crazy.
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Time is fluid, so the moments where everything feels perfect pass in a wink, and those where you're on your knees in despair drag on like the death of a thousand cuts.
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He'd said the sun could burn me. It certainly looked angry enough, all orange and glowing mad.
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The whole world is like Whitewall's razors I burst out. It cuts us, and we bleed but there's no purpose to it.
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Love sounded terrible if it made you so weak, you couldn't survive with out it.
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But wishes were empty thoughts, cast down a dark hole. They didn't come true unless you worked for them. I'd learned that about the world, if nothing more.
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