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Such a display of death - how could it be considered a victory?

James Dashner

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James Dashner
Age: 52
Born: 1972
Born: November 26
Author
Novelist
Science Fiction Writer
Writer
Cobb County
Georgia
James Smith Dashner
Death
Display
Considered
Victory

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He didn't have a single clue what was going on with these two strangers, but every instinct told him Master George equaled good, Mistress Jane equaled bald- he blinked-uh, bad.
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I've always been fascinated by quantum physics and the possibility of alternate realities.
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I just...feel like I need to save everyone. To redeem myself.
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Oh, I'm good. Seriously, after all these years, you'd think I would stop amazing myself. But here I am, still doing it.
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And then they were kissing. Something exploded within his chest burning away the tension and confusion and fear. Burning away the hurt of seconds earlier. For a moment it felt like nothing mattered anymore. Like nothing would matter ever again.
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Listen,' Thomas said, slowly getting to his feet, hoping Minho wouldn’t be stupid enough to try anything. “There’s something about us. We’re not just random shanks who showed up on your doorstep. We’re valuable. Alive, not dead.” The anger on Jorge’s face lessened ever so slightly. Maybe a spark of curiosity. But what he said was 'What’s a shank?
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I do love ponies. Wish I could eat one right now.
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Thomas: Is it [my brain] fixed? Brenda: It worked, judging from the fact that you're not trying to kill us anymore.
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Rose took my nose, I suppose,” he repeated the bubble of phlegm in his throat made a disgusting crackle. “And it really blows.
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You'll work hard to create characters that are compelling and unforgettable. But in the end, it's the story that matters.
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Dude, you tried to slice my you-know-what's off! Thomas laughed, something that he hadn't done in a long time. He welcomed it happily. Too bad I didn't. Could've saved the world from future little Minhos.
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The betrayal meant he couldn't trust her anymore, and his heart told him he couldn't forgive her.
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Get your runtcheeks down those stairs, right now
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We were lining up and counting off nice and easy till you came stumbling through like a doped-up bull,' Minho responded.
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Rose took my nose, I suppose
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Good try, ya bugging shank. The Gathering elects Runners, and if you think I'm tough, they'd laugh in your face.
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Too bad we don't have a flashlight. Thanks for stating the obvious, Mr. Thomas, Minho replied.
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Can’t take a chance that one day, in one spot, somewhere, an exit might appear. We can’t give up. Ever.
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Awww, Minho said. That's almost as sweet as that time she slammed the end of a spear into your shuck face.
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Bluh-huh-huh Minho groaned, a shudder of repulsion, like he'd just stepped in a pile of klunk.
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