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Okay, look. I get it. You're one of those people who thinks they have to help screwed-up people. Or maybe you're attracted to dangerous, unbalanced people. But listen up: I'm not Edward and you're not Bella - Lana

Michael Grant

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Michael Grant
People
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Sam and Caine were left standing side by side, bruised and battered, to stare over Penny's sickening corpse, at the face of their mother.
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We didn't Make this World we're just the Poor Fools who are living in it.
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One minute the teacher was talking about the Civil War. And the next minute he was gone. There. Gone. No 'poof.' No flash of light. No explosion.
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You're staring, Lana said. Yes. I am. I'm a teenage boy. Beautiful girls in wet underwear have a tendency to cause staring in teenage boys.
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We're sitting in the dark willing to sell our souls for another peppermint with enough uranium to give a terrorist a wet dream. - Diana
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The light of day showed you the limits of possibility. But walk through the dark, the absolute, total darkness, and the possibilities were limitless.
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The point is,” Caine continued, “you and I share something in common, Sam. We were born just three minutes apart.” Sam felt a tingle go up his spine. “Three minutes,” Caine said, moving closer. “You go first. And then me.” “No,” Sam said. “It can’t be.” “It can,” Caine said. “It is. And you are… brother.
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I've never been able to grow an organ back, Lana said. Last time I tried... Let's just hope you don't end up with whip eyes.
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She placed her palm over his wound, pressing as hard as she dared. She would stop the blood. She would hold him and stop his life from escaping. She would hold life inside him and he wouldn’t die
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She was no longer theirs. She was his. And he was hers. And this was their world.
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No you sick, stupid creep, I love you. I shouldn't. I shouldn't. You're sick inside, Caine, sick! But I love you. - Diana
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And yes, we do have some food. Maybe you'd like to join us? Unless you want to stick with your sheep sushi.
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They said a lot of things to each other that night, but nothing that involved words.
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Ninth graders with machine guns: its hard to make that a happy story.
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The warrior who had gone out from the lake to save his people by slaying the evil one was now just a boy sitting in the dirt with his fingers in a mane of blond hair. He stared at nothing. Expected nothing. Planned nothing. Just sat.
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You'll never have complete control, Caine. This world is changing all the time. Animals. People. Who knows what's next? We didn't' make this world, we're just the poor fools who are living in it.
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Things will be different this time, Caine said. There was too much contention, too much violence the last time. I tried to be a peaceful leader. But thing went badly. I wonder why, Diana muttered. These people, Caine said grandly, sweeping his arm towards the town, need more than a leader. They need...a king.
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And now, at last, gaiaphage and Nemesis stood facing each other. “Why didn’t you just . . . fade?” Gaia demanded plaintively. “You hit me,” Nemesis said. It was a little boy’s voice coming from Caine’s mouth. “And that’s not okay.
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I had a polynomial once. My doctor removed it.
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She was scared. Scared of dying.
Michael Grant