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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: 62
Born: 1962
Born: November 4
Novelist
Science Fiction Writer
Screenwriter
Writer
Miami
Florida
Richard Yancey
William James Henry
Will Henry
Spread
Square
Fingers
Squares
Hard
Fought
Heart
Belongs
Like
Territory
Holding
Fairs
Fair
Spreads

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A man lies upon the floor, spreads his arms, and transforms himself into a ship of a thousand sails.
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The doctor frowned upon drinking and often expressed wonderment at men who willingly made imbeciles of themselves.
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I am the one, Not Running, Not Staying, But FACING
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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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Yes, my dear child, monsters are real. I happen to have one hanging in my basement.
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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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The next time you better have a good reason, I tease him. Okay. He kisses me again. Reason? I ask softly. Um. You're really pretty? That's a good one. I don't know if it's true, but it's good.
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The minute we decide that one person doesn´t matter anymore, they´ve won.
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God doesn't call the equipped, son. God equips the called. And you have been called.
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Why did they come billions of miles just to stare at us? It's rude.
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Could there be irony crueler than this? How, upon his rescue, the truth had brought him here, to a house for the mad, for only a madman believes what every child knows to be true: There are monsters that lie in wait under our beds.
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It isn't up to me to break his heart that's time's job.
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Some things you don't have to promise. You just do.
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Maybe you reach a certain point in evolution where boredom is the greatest threat to your survival. Maybe this isn't a planetary takeover at all, but a game. Like a kid pulling wings off flies.
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I will teach you to love death. I will empty you of grief and guilt and self-pity and fill you up with hate and cunning and the spirit of vengeance. I will make my final stand here, Benjamin Thomas Parish.
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I don't care what the stars say about how small we are. One, even the smallest, weakest, most insignificant one, matters.
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When you look death in the eye and death blinks first, nothing seems impossible.
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Soon I will fall asleep and I will wake from this terrible dream. The endless night will fall, and I will rise. I long for that night. I do not fear it. I have had my fill of fear. I have stared too long into the abyss, and now the abyss stares back at me.
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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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The world is a clock winding down.
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