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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.

Michael Grant

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Michael Grant
Gone
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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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Sam, there comes a time when the world no longer needs heroes. And then the true hero knows to walk away.
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Anyway GONE. My goal in writing GONE To creep you out. To make you stay up all night reading then roll into school tired the next day so that you totally blow the big test and end up dropping out of school. GONE. Imagine a world where every adult vanishes in an instant.
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But when reality was hopeless, fantasy became more and more necessary.
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I had a hard childhood. Hard for my parents. Not that bad for me.
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It's not about who's got powers, morons. It's about who's not afraid. And who's going to do what has to be done.
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He wanted to go running home to Mommy, what can I say? Of course, it's hard for me to believe that anyone would choose to step out of the FAYZ. I mean, where else do you get to eat rats, use your backyard for a toilet, and live in fear for nineteen different kinds of scary? -Howard
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Deep down, she's a good person, Diana is, Caine said, and sighed. Deep down, I'm not. But she is.
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No, no, no, so not getting the point of fear. Because fear wasn't about what made sense. Fear was about possibilities. Not things that happened. Things that might.
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I had a polynomial once. My doctor removed it.
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