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| Link | Quote | Stars | Tags | Author |
| 17b8744 | Do you know how a gun works?" "They hurt you." "They can. I shot a bullet into the back of Molly's head so she wouldn't be sick or sad anymore." "Did it hurt her?" | Blake Crouch | ||
| 22d1612 | In the world we came from, our existence was so easy. And so full of discontent because it was so easy. How do you find meaning when you're one of seven billion? When food, clothing, everything you need is just one Walmart away? When we numb our minds to sleep on all manner of screens and HD entertainment, the meaning of life. | Blake Crouch | ||
| aa7602b | adrenaline-fueled nightmare, which moved so fast I had to hold onto the book with both hands. But underneath all that intensity beat the heart of a damn fine writer. Someone who could turn a phrase, slip in some subtext, make the reader really care. Desert Places will give you nightmares. But it will also move you in ways you didn't expect. How much do I admire his | Blake Crouch | ||
| edb9dd1 | There are no rights anymore. No laws. Just force and fear. | Blake Crouch | ||
| fa841d7 | No one tells you it's all about to change, to be taken away. There's no proximity alert, no indication that you're standing on the precipice. And maybe that's what makes tragedy so tragic. Not just what happens but how it happens: a sucker punch that comes to you out of nowhere, when you're least expecting it. No time to flinch or brace. | Blake Crouch | ||
| d9eccf7 | Fifteen years ago, before we met, Daniela was a comer to Chicago's art scene. She had a studio in Bucktown, showed her work in half-dozen galleries, and had just lined up her first solo exhibition in New York. Then came life. Me. Charlie. A bout of crippling postpartum depression. Derailment. Now she teaches private art lessons to middle-grade students. | Blake Crouch | ||
| 9f37261 | It's terrifying when you consider that every thought we have, every choice we could possibly make, branches into a new world. | Blake Crouch | ||
| a560bbd | Knew she didn't need another thing for the rest of her life except to be with him. There was such a peace that accompanied that knowledge. | Blake Crouch | ||
| db0a6bd | Why do people marry versions of their controlling mothers? Or absent fathers? To have a shot at righting old wrongs. Fixing things as an adult that hurt you as a child. Maybe it doesn't make sense at a surface level, but the subconscious marches to its own beat. I happen to think that world taught us a lot about how the box works. | Blake Crouch | ||
| ed145e9 | In some environments, safety and truth are natural born enemies. I would think a former employee of the federal government could grasp that concept. | Blake Crouch | ||
| 061b493 | You know how a dream feels the farther you get from it? It loses its color and intensity and logic. Your emotional connection to it fades. | Blake Crouch | ||
| 06b43af | You believe in God, Ethan?" "No." "Many did. Adopted moral codes. Created religions. Murdered in the names of gods they'd never seen or heard. You believe in the universe?" "Sure." "Oh, so you've been to space. Seen those distant galaxies firsthand?" "Point taken." | Blake Crouch | ||
| fd083ce | Stu, where you at?" "Up here in the library." "You hurt?" | Blake Crouch | ||
| fa17397 | The endorphin kick from the ping of a received text or a new e-mail. | Blake Crouch | ||
| 3bdbc2b | Jack Kilborn, author of Trapped, Afraid, and Endurance. | Blake Crouch | ||
| 89adf6e | They didn't live anymore in a world where life was to be colorful and celebrated. Life had become something you clung to, that you bit down hard on against the pain, like the rubber block in a session of electroshock therapy. | Blake Crouch | ||
| 3bf93a3 | I don't have close friends. There are acquaintances, a brother I talk to on the phone once a year on Christmas morning. Occasional dates, but no real love life. My work's been my life and love. | Blake Crouch | ||
| 324fe7b | Estas perdiendo la cabeza? -Dimelo tu No puedo -?Por que? Porque yo soy tu | claustrophobia ethan-burke | Blake Crouch | |
| 6816eb4 | After everything is taken from you, you see that you still have control over so much. Control over how you cope with misery. You realize all the beautiful choices you still own. Like whether to love or hate. Or forgive. | Blake Crouch | ||
| 9fe30e3 | All the world's a stage, and all the men and women merely players. They have their exits and their entrances; and one man in his time plays many parts. | Blake Crouch | ||
| 9bd3277 | sitting position, tucking his head between his knees. Sensed the instability of the world long before he opened his eyes, like its axis had been cut loose to teeter. His first deep breath felt like someone driving a steel wedge between the ribs high on his left side, but he groaned through the pain and forced his eyes to open. His left eye must have been badly swollen, because it seemed like he was staring through a slit. The greenest grass.. | Blake Crouch | ||
| 3c338f3 | Both, in their own way, thinking, This is hell--the absolute loss borne from all those slivers of perfection that passed unnoticed, unrelished. | Blake Crouch | ||
| 6666376 | She cut into a waffle and said, "Gotta be honest--I'm not over the moon about the word 'heist.'" "No? It's one of my favorites." | Blake Crouch | ||
| 5815e0f | Money can't buy you happiness, darling. Believe me, I've tried." "But it affords your own brand of misery." | Blake Crouch | ||
| 87d7c2c | We're a part of something here, Mr. Burke. Something that matters. All of us." "Here's the thing, Marcus, and I don't want you to ever forget it. Nobody fucking asked me or anyone in that valley if we wanted to be a part of this." | Blake Crouch | ||
| a74d913 | He came to lying on his back with sunlight pouring down into his face and the murmur of running water close by. There was a brilliant ache in his optic nerve, and a steady, painless throbbing at the base of his skull--the distant thunder of an approaching migraine. He rolled onto his side and pushed up into a sitting position, tucking his head between his knees. | Blake Crouch | ||
| 3615528 | I'd found something I didn't even know I was searching for. | Blake Crouch | ||
| 953a3b9 | He also carried that whiff of unearned arrogance that seems to cling to those who crave authority for the sheer sake of power. | Blake Crouch | ||
| d1168ca | What might have been and what has been Point to one end, which is always present. Footfalls echo in the memory Down the passage which we did not take Towards the door we never opened. --T. S. Eliot, "Burnt Norton" | Blake Crouch | ||
| 6851a3e | It all points to the fact that my identity isn't binary. It's multifaceted. And maybe I can let go of the sting and resentment of the path not taken, because the path not taken isn't just the inverse of who I am. It's an infinitely branching system that represents all the permutations of my life between the extremes of me[.] | Blake Crouch | ||
| 646bf05 | two things will stop them--Christmas and tragedy. He dismounts his albino steed, the horse's pinked nostrils flaring, dirty mane matted with ice. The single-rig saddle is snow-crusted as well, its leather and cloth components--the mochila and shabrack--frozen stiff. He rubs George's neck, speaking in soft, low tones he knows will calm the animal, telling him he did a good day's work and that a warm stable awaits with feed and fresh water. T.. | Blake Crouch | ||
| 3f7fd59 | I'm curious," she said. "All this time, and now you contact me." "I've followed your journalism career, subscribe to all the magazines you regularly contribute to, and I thought this . . . expedition . . . might be good fodder for your--" | Blake Crouch | ||
| c9cdb38 | She said, "Jerrod's dead, and Scott's hurt bad." Wood creaked in a structure across the street. "Listen," Lawrence said, "there's a house up that slope, with a bay window in front. I want you to go there, hide inside, get out of the open." | Blake Crouch | ||
| 9816d42 | understand. Who marked off its dimensions? Surely you know! Who stretched a measuring line across it? On what were its footings set, or who laid its cornerstone--while the morning stars sang together and all the angels shouted for joy? | Blake Crouch | ||
| 9a9f00d | Where were you when I laid the earth's foundation? Tell me, if you understand. Who marked off its dimensions? Surely you know! Who stretched a measuring line across it? On what were its footings set, or who laid its cornerstone--while the morning stars sang together and all the angels shouted for joy?" JOB" | Blake Crouch | ||
| f086815 | Perfection was a surface thing. The epidermis. Cut a few layers deep, you begin to see some darker shades. | Blake Crouch | ||
| 8274744 | Randall inwardly raged about the stupidity of the building designers to not have included another way out of the office, then immediately decided that architects did not typically have "homicidal monster infestation" on their list of situations that required safety precautions." -- | Blake Crouch | ||
| 8f01ff6 | You've killed a hundred and thirty people, and you're getting squeamish at sticking your finger up a girl's ass? Some people pay to do it. | Blake Crouch | ||
| 5b36acc | He'd never hit a woman in his life, but as Pam moved in for more, he couldn't shake the thought that it would feel so satisfying to connect his right elbow with this bitch's jaw. | Blake Crouch | ||
| ea8b850 | It's the beautiful thing about youth. There's a weightlessness that permeates everything because no damning choices have been made, no paths committed to, and the road forking out ahead is pure, unlimited potential. | Blake Crouch | ||
| d93cb59 | Consciousness is a result of environment. Our cognitions - our idea of reality - are shaped by what we can perceive, by the limitations of our senses. | reality senses | Blake Crouch | |
| 9fffffa | It's a troubling paradox - I have total control, but only to the extent I have control over myself. | multiverse | Blake Crouch | |
| 1a78cd1 | On his first attempt to get up, his knees buckled and he sat down hard enough to send | Blake Crouch | ||
| 056087a | warm, the sky above a deep and cloudless cobalt. The man checked the pockets of his slacks, and then of his single-breasted coat. No wallet. No money clip. No ID. No keys. No phone. Just a small Swiss Army knife in one of the inner pockets. * | Blake Crouch |