Wendie Gatzow

“He came to repeatedly and began again. No one knows how many times. A bloody trail revealed his convoluted path. He started less than two table lengths from the windows, but he headed off in the wrong direction. Then he hit obstacles: bodies, table legs, and chairs. Some he pushed away, others had to be maneuvered around. He kept heading for the light. If he could just make it to the windows maybe someone would see him. If he had to, maybe he would jump. It took three hours to get there.”
― Dave Cullen, Columbine

“He'd died. Plain and simple. And it pissed him off. Left him frustrated and disappointed. Where had all , the guardian angel crap they'd fed him in catechism gone to? He'd seen no angels, seraphim, archangels or pearly gates. No one to show him the ropes now that he was dead. What the hell was he supposed to do?”
― Deborah Leblanc, Toe to Toe

“Are you asking me to undress, Tris?'
A nervous laugh gurgles from my throat. 'Only ... partially”
― Veronica Roth

“What is it?'
'Nothing,' he said, and put his arm around her.
'You sighed.'
'I'd like to be further along than I am.'
She snuggled against his side. 'I know that feeling. But don't we make progress in fits and starts? Nothing happens for a long time, then suddenly we get a surprise, have an encounter, reach a decision point, and we're no longer the same as we were before.”
― Bernhard Schlink, Sommerlügen