Quotes from Joe Hill

Terror was a fire that held you trapped in the top floor of a burning building; the only way to escape it was to jump.

Aquilo deixou Ig perplexo, a ideia de que alguém pudesse não se interessar por música. Era como não se interessar por felicidade.

Was there any human urge more pitiful—or more intense—than wanting another chance at something? His

She wasn't sure good intentions always paved the road to hell, but they for sure weren't the highest standard of medical care. She

The people who had witnessed the mushroom cloud rising from Hiroshima could've felt no less.

lowered, rearing away from the suit. Georgia laughed. "It is haunted," she said. She held the suit in front of her and waved it back and forth, walking it through the air toward Angus, flapping it at him, a bullfighter with cape. She moaned as she closed in on him, the

These, and many of the other best-known legends of the Rosebud, are false…the ghost stories of people who have seen too many horror movies and who think they know exactly how a ghost story should be.

They came to believe their doctors were holding back limited quantities of a cure, and attempted to take them hostage. They formed armies, congresses, religions; plotted rebellions, fomented treasons, practiced heresies.

There are two infections running rampant. One is the Dragonscale, and the other is panic." "It

He had heard it the way he wanted to hear it. He had known what he had wanted to know. Maybe it was always that way for almost everyone.

Left one for you, kiddo, he imagined the fat man telling him. Marshall's skull grinned with small, sharp, slanting teeth. Might come in handy. You never know. In another couple days, when you're too weak to stand, it might be just what the doctor ordered. Swallow one as needed for pain and call me never.

The aspiring novelist in me wants a secret tunnel hidden behind a false wall, or a poster of a famous movie star, or

What shamed him was not that he was, as his doctor said, morbidly obese (what a qualifier, "morbidly," as if at a certain point, being overweight were morally similar to necrophilia). What he hated, what made him feel squirmy and ill inside, was his own inability to change his habits. He genuinely could not say the things he needed to say, could not order the salad when he smelled french fries.

There's always a little decency in the worst places.... and always little secret selfishness in the best.

Who says we're smart?' she asked, in a tone of playful contempt. 'We never even mastered fire. We thought we did, but you see now, it has mastered us.

Did he finish reading The Hunger Games before his heart gave out? I hoped so. For me, a lifelong bookworm, there was nothing quite so awful as the thought of dying fifty pages from the end of a good novel.

You won't do anyone any good if you drop dead of exhaustion," she said to Harper once. I won't do anyone any good if I don't, Harper imagined saying back. I'm not doing anyone any good, one way or another. But she didn't say it. It would've been grief talking, and it was unfair to unload her sadness

You just missed a perfectly good opportunity to toast an awful Coldplay T-shirt. If I ever spontaneously combust, I hope I'm holding a whole stack of their CDs." Harper

In Vietnam he earned a Purple Heart and a Bronze Star. He was discharged with honors and settled in Florida.

Sometimes I think every man wants to be a writer. They want to invent a world with the perfect imaginary woman, someone they can boss around and undress at will. They can work out their own aggression with a few fictional rape scenes. Then they can send their fictional surrogate in to save her, a white knight—or a fireman! Someone with all the power and all the agency. Real women, on the other hand, have all these tiresome interests of their own, and won't follow an outline.

I want that on my gravestone. Snuffleupagus was real. No more. Just that.

asleep, her eyes partly shut as she tramped across the dew-soaked grass. Today she had on a thick white fluffy cap with

To live for others was to live fully; to live only for yourself, a cold kind of death. The sugar was sweeter when you gave it to someone else to taste.

It was a curious quirk of Harper's nature that she grew calmer in the moments when others were most inclined to sink into hysterics; that she was habitually at her most observant and clear-eyed in the very times when others could not bear to see what was happening at all. She would've made a fine battlefield nurse. She