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He spreads his fingers over my heart, like he’s holding it, like it belongs to him, the hard-fought-for territory he’s won fair and square.

Rick Yancey

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Rick Yancey
Age: 61
Born: 1962
Born: November 4
Novelist
Science Fiction Writer
Screenwriter
Writer
Miami
Florida
Richard Yancey
William James Henry
Will Henry
Hard
Fought
Heart
Belongs
Like
Territory
Holding
Fairs
Fair
Spreads
Spread
Square
Fingers
Squares

More quotes by Rick Yancey

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And if humanity is the last war, then I am the battlefield.
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I brought Sammy inside and put him to bed. Said his prayer with him. “‘Now I lay me down to sleep…’” To me, just random noise. Gibberish. I wasn’t sure exactly what it was, but I felt that, when it came to God, there was a broken promise in there somewhere.
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If the world breaks a million and one promises, can you trust the million and second?
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There are those who labor in the darkness, that the rest of us might live in the light.
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You can only call someone crazy if there’s someone else who’s normal. Like good and evil. If everything was good, then nothing would be good.
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I have a very low tolerance for boredom and often think I would have missed out on books entirely if Id grown up in the Internet and video game age. Now I enjoy books for people of all ages, including children.
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We'd stared into the face of Death, and Death blinked first. You'd think that would make us feel brave and invincible. It didn't.
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Human beings are remarkably resilient. When you think about it, our species has been teetering upon the edge of the existential cliff since Hiroshima. In short, we endure.
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When I wake up the next morning, there's a Hershey's Kiss sitting on the table beside me.
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His heart, the war. Her face, the battlefield.
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I had it all wrong, he says. Before I found you, I thought the only way to hold on was to find something to live for. It isn't. To hold on, you have to find something you're willing to die for.
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Cruelty isn't a personality trait. Cruelty is a habit.
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Are you okay? I (Cassie) call up to him. Um. Define okay. (Ben) Okay means you're not bleeding to death. I'm okay.
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The world is a clock winding down.
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Good God, man, what is that smell? He eyed with disgust the doctor's filthy cloak. Life, answered the doctor.
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I was a slave to something he believed to be silly and superstitious: the idea that all life was worth defending and that nothing justified surrender to the forces of destruction.
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If I had faced it then, I wouldn't be facing it now, but sooner or later you have to choose between running and facing the thing you thought you could not face.
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God doesn't call the equipped, son. God equips the called. And you have been called.
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I don't move. I wait behind my log, terrified. Over the past ten minutes, it's become such a dear friend, I consider naming it: Howard, my pet log.
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Some things you can never leave behind. They don't belong to the past. They belong to you.
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