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That’s where the dreams end: with the realization that it doesn’t matter where I am, whether I think I’m a woman or a fish or something in-between. I’ve never really left the pond. I still can’t breathe.

Mira Grant

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Mira Grant
Think
Dream
Fishes
Thinking
Ends
Realization
Stills
Breathe
Still
Dreams
Matter
Whether
Something
Woman
Pond
Really
Left
Ponds
Never
Doesn
Fish

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I am, in fact, immortal when annoyed.
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I guess in the end, it doesn’t matter what we wanted. What matters is what we chose to do with the things we had.
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When Rome burned, the emperor's cats still expected to be fed on time.
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We are in the middle of what looks increasingly like the zombie apocalypse. Moaning people don't need help. Moaning people are intending to eat us.
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May posterity show mercy when it look back upon the work we do today. We did what we could with what we had.
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You know, addressing my crazy by name doesn’t exactly help me stay sane,” I said. “Nothing can help you stay sane at this point, Mason,” said Becks. “That ship has sailed.
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I would love a sandwich,' said Tybalt, with enough gravity to make it sound like a formal proclamation. Resolved: that we will have ham and cheese sandwiches.
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Time never runs backward when I need it to. Not for me, and not for anyone else.
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You are truly endearing when you sleep. I attribute this to the exotic nature of seeing you in a state of silence. —Tybalt
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If anything attacked us, we could just panic at it until it went away.
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He'll die first, we both know it, but I don't know... I really don't know how long I'll stay alive without him. That's the part Shaun doesn't know. I don't intend to be an only child for long.
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My manners have always been the first thing to go when I get upset, and some people say that they stopped coming back a long time ago.
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No one should be posing for duck-lipped selfies with the plaque of the dead. That wouldn't be right.
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A proper lady should be able to smile pretty, wear sequins like she means it, and kick a man's ass nine ways from Sunday while wearing stiletto heels. If she can't do that much, she's not trying hard enough.
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They come to us, these restless dead, Shrouds woven from the words of men, With trumpets sounding overhead (The walls of hope have grown so thin And all our vaunted innocence Has withered in this endless frost) That promise little recompense For all we risk, for all we've lost.
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Children's games are stronger than you remember once you've grown up and left them behind. They're always fair, and never kind.
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April frowned, irritation evident. “I did not consent to your presence,” she said peevishly. “Please depart, and attempt your political assassination on someone else’s property.
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Shaun get your sister her glasses. She looks naked without them. It's creeping me out.
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...even saying good-bye isn’t enough. There’s always one more thing you should have had the time to say, or do, or ask. There’s always going to be that one missing piece.
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Why is it you assholes always feel the need to tell the media your evil plans before you kill us?” asked Becks. “Is it a union requirement or something?
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