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But what else can I do, other than to plead with you like this? Other than to write down my story, our story, to show you that what you've done . . . to make you realize that what you did wasn't fair, wasn't right.

Lucy Christopher

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Lucy Christopher
Age: 54
Author
Writer
WAL
Make
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Plead
Shows
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Else
Fair
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More quotes by Lucy Christopher

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I want you to see that the person I glimpsed running beside the camel, running to save my life, is the person you can choose to be.
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When the darkness gets easier, you know you're sinking deeper, becoming dead yourself.
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It was like I’d stepped out into an afterlife. Only there were no angels.
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I mean, that star over there is blinking at me madly now, but for how long? An hour or two, or for the next million years? And how long will we sit here like this? Just another moment, or the rest of our lives? You know which one I'd prefer.
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I love you, you said, simple as anything.
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The deep blue of your eyes had secrets. I wanted them.
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And it's hard to hate someone once you understand them.
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I didn’t want the person standing there, beside the bed, to have the same face I’d found so attractive at the airport. But you were there all right: the blue eyes, blondish hair, and tiny scar. Only you didn’t look beautiful this time. Just evil.
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Your beautiful mouth was moving like a caterpillar. I reached out and tried to catch it.
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You're right, he's a killer, you said. A rooster with some serious issues.
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There is no need to put your heart in a bottle, then you will die. - Ty from Stolen
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Far, far away something made a single ghostly howl, like a banshee in the dark.
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I remember the lights turning into blurs of blazing fire. I remember the air-conditioning chilling my arms. The smell of coffee smudging into the smell of eucalyptus.
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How would she find her herd? How would she find you?
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I chased money, pretended to be someone else to get it. It got easier the longer I did it... but that's the trap, see? When the deadness gets easier, you know you're sinking deeper, becoming dead yourself.
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Doesn't that hurt? I said. Yep. How do you keep them in there? I'm stubborn. You grinned. Stubborn as a waddywood. And anyway, pain means it's healing. Not always.
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The land wants you here. I want you here, you called. Don't you care about that at all?
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You looked at me, your eyes huge. You we're like a dog then, waiting for me to throw you a bone . . . waiting for something I could never give you.
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The sand stretched out gray and ghostlike and illuminated, a column of light leading forward. It was like something a dead person would see, a tunnel leading toward heaven.
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This be OK?' I asked, innocently. 'You want me to have no skin left?' You rolled your eyes. Actually, don't answer that one.
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