and a most curious country it was. There were a number of tiny little brooks running straight across it from side to side, and the ground between was divided up into squares by a number of little green hedges, that reached from brook to brook.
I declare it's marked out just like a large chessboard!' Alice said at last. 'There ought to be some men moving about somewhere--and so there are!' she added in a tone of delight, and her heart began to beat quick with excitement as she went on. 'It's a great huge game of chess that's being played--all over the world--if this is the world at all, you know. Oh, what fun it is!
How dreadful...to be caught up in a game and have no idea of the rules.
Caroline StevermerMots clés rules games chess confusion chocolate-pot
IF her life had taught her anything, it was that you never really knew what people had going on beneath the surface. People were shit. The only difference between them and animals was people felt the need to hide it.
Stacia KaneMots clés truth chess downside-ghosts
Terrible thought she was brave. She remembered it now, heard his voice in her head as if he stood next to her. "They scared. Not you, though." Terrible thought she was brave, and if he - a man whose name was Terrible, a man whose path people scrambled to get out of - thought so, it must be true. She could do this, she would do this.
Stacia KaneMots clés chess terrible downside-ghosts
With magic almost anything was possible; all objects had energy, and energy could be manipulated.
Stacia KaneMots clés chess downside-ghosts
Chess is all about getting the king into check, you see. It's about killing the father. I would say that chess has more to do with the art of murder than it does with the art of war.
Arturo Pérez-ReverteMots clés murder killing chess king father
People, she was discovering, were like cockroaches: If you allowed one in, more were sure to follow.
Stacia KaneMots clés chess
But she never thought about the way Terrible looked, at least not that way. He hadn’t been ugly to her for months; he’d gone from just being a face she was familiar with to being a face she loved to look at, a face that made her….happy. Who gave a shit what anyone else saw when they looked at him, when they saw the crooked, many times broken nose, or the scars, or the jutting brow or thick jaw and heavy muttonchops? She knew what she saw, and that was all that mattered. Knew what was behind those hard dark eyes, and wanted it more than anything.
Stacia KaneHow the hell did people do this, this emotion-and-forgiveness thing? How did they stand these feelings? She could barely handle it and she had lovely, necessary, reason-for-living drugs to smooth over the rough spots. How did people do this shit sober?
Stacia KaneMots clés chess
Her sigh felt dragged from the depths of her soul. Great. Working for Bump again.
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