IF YOU HAVE EVER LOOKED IN THE MIRROR
AND HATED WHAT YOUSAW,THIS BOOK
IS FOR YOU.
Mots clés inspirational
Living means constantly growing closer to death. Satisfaction only temporarily relieves hunger. Find the balance, and plant your feet.
Jackie Morse KesslerA smile flitted across War's mouth, hidden by her helmet. She had little patience for religion (although she approved heartily of the religious fanatics who sought to cleanse the world of heresy), and the only faith War had was in cold steel and hot blood.
Jackie Morse KesslerI want to die.
Jackie Morse KesslerThou art hunger, yo. Make with the starvation.
Jackie Morse KesslerMots clés humour
She wanted to have him hold her and tell her all the demons were pretend, that there was no monster in her closet, that everything would be okay. But that was a lie. The demon was in her head, telling her she was too fat. She had to get the demon out. But she couldn't do it by herself.
Jackie Morse KesslerMots clés inspirational self-deception
Vivir significa acercarse constantemente a la muerte. La satisfacción sólo alivia temporalmente el hambre. Encuentra el balance, y planta tus pies.
Jackie Morse KesslerEl hambre es parte de la vida. La vida esta en todas partes.
Jackie Morse KesslerIn a rush, the world opened its mouth to her—and it was screaming.
Everywhere—the air around her, the ground beneath her, the stars above—rippled with the soul-wrenching cries of
hunger: the trees and bushes and plants all twisted and bent, their branches and stems clawing the sky in skeletal panic; the
animals and insects, flying and crawling and burrowing, each frantic in its own way, searching incessantly to end the gnawing
demand in its belly; the swarms of people, clotting the world, stuffing themselves only to beg for more, be it food or wealth or
attention—all of them, desperate, insatiable. So very hungry.
All of them, leeching on to her. Sucking her dry.
THEY WILL ALL BETRAY YOU, War said.
And they would. Whether it was her teachers or her friends or her family, they would all betray her. Maybe it would be couched in helpful terms, and maybe their faces would be brimming with sympathy. But in the end, they would all let her down.
They would all cut her down.
They would all slap labels on her and spoon-feed her appropriate words, wipe her mouth with their expectations. They
would wind her up and make her dance, and when they were done they'd put her away. They would keep doing it and doing it, until she was nothing more than a shell, a skin, something to slip on and slip off and tuck in at the corners.
They would ... unless she stopped them.
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