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When I wake up the next morning, there's a Hershey's Kiss sitting on the table beside me.

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
Wake
Kissing
Sitting
Morning
Hershey
Next
Beside
Kiss
Table
Tables

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There are times when fear is not our enemy. There are times when fear is our truest, sometimes only, friend.
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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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God doesn't call the equipped, son. God equips the called. And you have been called.
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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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Cruelty isn't a personality trait. Cruelty is a habit.
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It isn't up to me to break his heart that's time's job.
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That's what you do when the curtain is falling--you give the line that the audience wants to hear.
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There are things that are too terrible to remember, and there are things that are almost too wonderful to recall.
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Miss Marks, you see, makes her living by...entertaining young, and not so young, sailors...or any other members of the armed forced, or civilians, who enjoy...being entertained by ladies who...entertain.
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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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In every creepy movie ever made, the barn is the prime nesting ground for the things you don't know you're looking for and always regret finding.
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Yes, my dear child, monsters are real. I happen to have one hanging in my basement.
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I stare at her. I've always known that it's impossible to argue with Belinda, not because she's particularly good at it, but because she's so bad at it- that there is no common ground to work from. She simply sees the world she wants to see it and no amount of logic can change her mind.
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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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There's the bullshit you know that you know the bullshit you don't know and know you don't know and the bullshit you just think you know but really don't.
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It was the price of survival. The cost of his people's last, desperate gamble: To rid his new home of humanity, he had to become human. And being human, he had to overcome his humanity.
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Prayers and promises. The one his sister made to him. The unspoken one I made to my sister. Prayers are promises, too, and these are the days of broken promises.
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Dr. Warthrop chopped off my finger with a butcher knife.
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Still, you tend to believe what you always believed, think what you always thought, expect what you always expected
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