"Of course he had to be that big. As if his gorgeous face, flawless body, and sexy voice weren’t enough—God seriously pulled out all His tricks when He made this man."
almanca yazan ama alman olmayan yazarlar
Strategically selected and appropriately interpreted works of these men were later used to construct a canon that was meant to carefully delineate and police the boundaries between the German nation and its 'Others', such as Jews and Slavs, even -or especially- in the face of their close proximity.
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Let’s try a little thought experiment. Imagine you’re playing shogi, and all of a sudden, your opponent starts moving pieces around however he wants with no rhyme or reason. And then, without even capturing your king, he looks at you as if to say, How’s that? I won.
…How did you react? Could it be that you wanted to punch him in the face? But can you think of a game where everyone plays that way? That’s right—that’s reality.
—Games and real life are different? No shit. We have a few words for the people who smugly state the obvious: Don’t even try to compare them, n00b.
"Perhaps, one day, you may want to come back. I shall wait for that day. I want to stand up in your tears, and splash about in them, and sing. I want to be there when you grovel. I want to be there, I want to watch it, I want the front seat. I want to see your face rubbed in the mud - that's all I can hope for. There's nothing else I want any longer."
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"Everything about him seemed to burn, his face, the edges of his hair glistened and seemed to spring off his head, and his eyes were so blue and full of the sun. He looked so young and frail, in spite of the tired line of his mouth. I knew I was talking on more than I was ever likely to be capable of bearing, but there never seemed to be any choice."
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"You are a Fox. You are always going to be nothing." Andrew stubbed his cigarette out. "I hate you."
"Nine percent of the time you don't."
"Nine percent of the time I don't want to kill you. I always hate you."
"Every time you say that I believe you a little less."
"No one asked you." With that, Andrew caught Neil's face in his hands and leaned in
Andrew kissed him like this was a fight with their lives on the line, like his world stopped and started with Neil's mouth. Neil's heart stuttered to a stop at the first hard press of lips against his and he reached up without thinking. His hand made it as far as Andrew's jaw before he remembered Andrew didn't like to be touched. Neil caught hold of Andrew's coat sleeve instead and knotted his fingers in the heavy wool.
'' Question for you, Neil. Do I look dead to you?" He pointed up at his face, waited for Neil to answer, and didn't seem surprised when Neil didn't. "Here."
Andrew beckoned Neil closer as if he wanted to show Neil something on his phone's small screen. He flipped the phone open one-handed and pressed down hard on a single button. There was silence, then the distant hum of Andrew's phone dialing out. Between them Neil's phone started to sing. The words were different than Andrew's ringtone, but the voice was the same. Neil knew it was from the same miserable song. The lyrics hurt just as much as Andrew's had. Neil stared down at the phone and let it ring.
"Your phone is ringing," Andrew said. "You should answer it."
Neil picked it up with numb fingers and opened it. He spared only a second to look at Andrew's name on the screen before he answered and put it to his ear.
"Your parents are dead, you are not fine, and nothing is going to be okay," Andrew said. "This is not news to you. But from now until May you are still Neil Josten and I am still the man who said he would keep you alive.
"I don't care if you use this phone tomorrow. I don't care if you never use it again. But you are going to keep it on you because one day you might need it." Andrew put a finger to the underside of Neil's chin and forced Neil's head up until they were looking at each other. "On that day you're not going to run. You're going to think about what I promised you and you're going to make the call. Tell me you understand."
"Oh, man. Neil, you clean up good. Can I say that, or is that
against the rules? Just—damn. Aaron, don't let me get too drunk
tonight."
Andrew stopped by Nicky long enough to pull a pack of
cigarettes out of his pocket. He lit one, never mind that the
dormitory rooms came equipped with smoke detectors, and put
his lighter in Nicky's face.
"Don't make me kill you," Andrew said.
Nicky held up his hands in self-defense. "I know."
"Do you?"
"Promise," Nicky said weakly.
The magazine piece on the urban legend had stated, ‘At the end of the day, whether one returns to the past or travels to the future, the present does not change. So it raises the question: just what is the point of that chair?’
But Kazu still goes on believing that, no matter what difficulties people face, they will always have the strength to overcome them. It just takes heart. And if the chair can change someone’s heart, it clearly has its purpose.
But with her cool expression, she will just say, ‘Drink the coffee before it gets cold.’
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Alpha sat down beside her, taking her small, soft hand in his, and felt his eye burning, wet sliding down his face into his beard.
He let everything crash down on him, everything that had been building and building in the last day, last month, last decade, being in the hospital and the memories it brought, losing his friend to betrayal, realizing he had been the one to blind him, forgetting Zephyr and still not getting those memories, losing Zenith and almost losing his wife, everything crashed on him and there, holding her hand while she slept, he cried in a hospital after twenty years.
Zephyr watched, both enthralled and aghast, as he turned them to face her, making sure she was watching.
She couldn’t look away if she tried.
And keeping their gazes locked, he sliced the man’s throat open, inch by inch.
Yueh turned away to hide his face from her. If only it were possible to hate these people instead of love them!
Alexander pushed his unruly black curls back from his face and said, "Well, obviously Richard will be Caesar."
"Because we all secretly want to kill him?" James asked.
Richard arched one dark eyebrow. "Et tu, Bruté?"
"Sic semper tyrannis," James said, and drew the tip of his pen across his throat like a dagger. Thus always to tyrants.
Alexander gestured from one of them to the other. "Exactly," he said. "James will be Brutus because he's always the good guy, and I'll be Cassius because I'm always the bad guy. Richard and Wren can't be married because that would be gross, so she'll be Portia, Meredith will be Calpurnia, and Pip, you'll end up in drag again."
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"Her inner cynic was so sarcastic that if it’d been a person, she’d have slapped its face."
"No one else gets to kill you, Ms. Vitalio," he spoke quietly. "The last face you see before you die will be mine. When it comes to death, you're mine."
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