Book: Game Gerald

Jesse couldn't read his thoughts - to read a person like a book, you have to live with it much more than seventeen - but she understood his moods and more or less knew exactly what he had in mind.

It is often thought that these newfangled psychologists did not understand many of the really important things - and deliberately do not understand, but with regard to the survivability of some of the memories... in this they are absolutely right. There are things that are firmly etched in my memory, they cling to the man like the evil leeches, which do not pull out any forces. Until then they do not show themselves, but certain words - "idiot" and "stupid", for example - and instantly awaken, and then they begin to torment a person by a new one.

Jesse was beginning to understand that in her mind countless of these gorges and precipices - the dark caves and winding canyons where never penetrates into the light of the sun; places where the Eclipse never ends. That was interesting. It is interesting to know that your mind is just a huge gloomy graveyard, built over the black failure, the bottom of which crawl strange snake-like creature.

She already understood everything, but didn't want to believe it. Sometimes the truth is too cruel to contemplate. So cruel and unjust.

I do not doubt, this is quite possible. In the light of day people usually feel safe from ghosts, ghouls and the living dead. And at night, if you're not one too, nothing to fear. But if you're alone, in the dark... they are right there. When you're alone in the dark, you become the open door; and if you call for help, Jesse, who knows what terrible creatures can respond to your call? Who knows what was seen by those who met death alone? And it is likely that some of them died of fright, and no matter what was written on their death certificate.

Sweetie, it's all about you. Do you still think that this poor little Patty, like you, will never fail.

That day, Jesse realized what was inside it - a well, and the water is poisoned. And when William laughed at her, he put the bucket back full of slimy foam and all sorts of swamp animals. She hated his brother for it. Perhaps it's why he got hit. He forced her to look inward. And what she saw there scared her the most. And now, many years later, this dark depth frightened her still... scared and brought her into a rage.

On the reverse side of the postcard was only a vague mark of Arizona and a brief message that Ruth entered the community of lesbians. This news didn't surprise Jess. She even pleased herself, that her old friend - this irritable and yet extremely cute - finally was able to find in the great mosaic of life cell suitable for its glass - intricate glass non-trivial shapes and colors.

I think most men are that way and treat the mental abilities of women: women also know how to think, only their thoughts are like the ravings of a seriously ill person at an extreme stage of malaria.

Sleep is how the selection of the chief in reviewing recent books in the "reader's digest".

Ability to survive does not imply a polite apology.

There are things that are firmly etched in my memory; they cling to the man like the evil leeches, which do not pull out any forces.

The survivor of a real tragedy, don't need anyone's pity. Pity valued cheaply. Pity the whole world is not worth a penny.