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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.

James Dashner

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James Dashner
Age: 51
Born: 1972
Born: November 26
Author
Novelist
Science Fiction Writer
Writer
Cobb County
Georgia
James Smith Dashner
Judging
Worked
Kill
Brain
Fact
Brenda
Facts
Thomas
Trying
Fixed
Anymore

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What's going on? Newt asked, looking back and forth between Thomas and Aris. Why're you guys looking at each other like you just fell in love?
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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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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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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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Minho looked at Thomas, a serious expression on his face. If I don't see you on the other side, he said in a sappy voice, remember that I love you.
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Do books about the Holocaust make us think, Oh well, there was nothing we could've done to prevent that or prevent it from happening again? Of course not. It makes us angry and determined to stop such atrocities.
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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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Your demons are always with you, Skale answered. His voice seemed even raspier than the day before. Don't you understand that by now? Always with you, impossible to escape. But you never can guess how they might manifest themselves.
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I'm gonnna break your faces!
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Everything is going to change.
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Kill me. If you’ve ever been my friend, kill me.
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She smiled for the first time, and he almost had to look away, as if something that nice didn’t belong in such a glum and gray place, as if he had no right to look at her expression.
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Can you do that?” Thomas asked. “Huh?” “Kill someone three times.” “I’d figure out a way.
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He whipped out his sheet, then pulled it over himself and wrapped it tightly around his face like an old woman in a shawl. 'How do I look?' 'Like the ugliest shanky girl I’ve ever seen,' Minho responded. 'You better thank the gods above you were born a dude.' 'Thanks.
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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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But there was something about the largest object in the solar system vanishing that tended to disrupt normal schedules.
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Next time I'll pat you on the freaking back for stating the obvious.
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I just...feel like I need to save everyone. To redeem myself.
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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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The girl leaned forward and kissed Thomas on the cheek. “You’re sweet. I really hope we don’t end up killing you, at least.
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