Quotes from Chuck Wendig

Han grins and laughs and tries not to get crushed. "C'mon, Chewie. Set new coordinates. It's time to get you home.

Until we disentangle fundamental needs and rights from someone's ability to charge us for it, capitalism will continue to throw us over the cliff's edge. This is how the world ends: not with a bang, but a ka-ching. —Afzad Kerman in his TED Talk, "Chaos and Crisis: The Accidental Ingenuity of the Almost-Apocalypse

It is our job to ruin the perfection of the empty page. It is our job to disrupt the status quo: because that's what storytelling us. Taking a straight line and bending it, breaking it, shaping it into something far stranger and far greater.

One helmeted cop is flung from his vehicle. The other crawls out onto the hood of his speeder, opening fire with a pair of blasters—just as a hunk of stone cracks him in the helmet, knocking him to the ground.

The dark side is honest. The dark side is direct. It is the knife in the front rather than one stuck in your back. The dark side is self-interested, yes, but it is about extending that interest outward. To yourself, but then beyond yourself.

It is vital we demilitarize our government so that a galactic war cannot happen like this again.

Hey, pal. You still know how to contact the other refugees? Roshyk, Hrrgn, Kirratha, and them?" Group of a half-dozen Wookiees who escaped Kessel and got away from the Empire when nobody else could. Group of the meanest, hairiest brutes.

Earth is home to more than twelve thousand species of ants. If you weighed all the ants and all the humans, the ants would weigh more.

The Empire's weapon may be destroyed, but the Empire itself lives on. Its oppressive hand closes around the throats of good, free-thinking people across the galaxy, from the Coruscant Core to the farthest systems in the Outer Rim. We must remember that our fight continues. Our rebellion is over. But the war…the war is just beginning.

PREPARE TO FIRE ALL CANNONS," Bones says—his voice warping so that it has a strange, hard-angle accent to it. "COMMENTARY: I SAY WE BLAST THE MEATBAG AND SAVE YOU THE TROUBLE, MASTER.

You wouldn't call yourself a runner if you quit every race your ran halfway through.

Somehow, the disappearance of coffee feels worse than the disappearance of all humankind.

What's come before will come back around again. Republic was the way of the world before, and it'll be the way again. And for a time everyone will cheer them on, and everything will be cozy-dosie, but there will come a time when things go sour and someone decides they got a better way of doing things.

You look nervous." "I'm ... a little nervous." "You'll be fine. You're pretty. You're alien. You'll trend well.

The mind is less precarious than we think it is, Nate. Often, I believe it is our fear of losing it that's more dangerous than actually losing it, if you'll follow my logic. The fear of a thing is quite often worse than the thing we fear

Humility is well and good but facts persevere beyond the shadow of one's own feelings," Ackbar says. "You saved Captain Antilles. You helped us capture two high-value Imperial targets—General Jylia Shale, and Palpatine's adviser Yupe Tashu—and confirm the deaths of two others: Moff Valco Pandion and slaver Arsin Crassus." The way Ackbar says that word slaver—it drips with rage and condescension.

I'm old enough to remember when the Republic shot itself right in the knee. It wasn't taken over by the Empire. It became the Empire slowly, surely, not overnight but over years and decades. Fruit always tastes nice when it's ripe. But it can't stay like that. Every nice piece of fruit will rot on the branch if it hangs there long enough. You remember that.

He doesn't belong here. He came one night during a bad storm. Been a plague ever since.

That flag's not just the emblem of being a racist asshole, a club to which your daddy probably belongs happily. But it's also the Confederate flag. The one carried by Southerners to say to the Yankees—that's your daddy, a Yankee—'Don't tread on me or I'll pop a musket ball up your ass.' Northerners driving around with the Dixie flag is like a Jew wearing a 'Go Hitler!' baseball cap." Jonesy's

The Empire is in chaos. As the old order crumbles, the fledgling New Republic seeks a swift end to the galactic conflict. Many Imperial leaders have fled from their posts, hoping to escape justice in the farthest corners of known space.

Sometimes the work emerged out of intent—the desire to make a specific thing. But just as often, what she created was not of her design, but, rather, was like archaeology: It was more of an uncovering, as if the artist's job was simply to find what the material was trying to hide. And then wrestle it to the surface, so that all could see. Or, in her case, cut the trapped spirit free.

The adults, though. They don't say much about him. Or to him. And no other Gungans come to see him, either. Nobody even says his name.

he'd subsumed a whole new identity. Into each world he went, he became someone slightly new to appeal to the Oliver of that place: sculpting himself into a key that fit into the hole in every Oliver's heart.

Emotionally she's a garage full of cats on fire.