Very fun, light read.
The only issue I felt was how quickly people got classified:
Q:
“Jonah, this is Ti—” began Terrence, but the guy cut him off.
“It's Trip.” The man's tone was impatient, clipped, and frigid. He returned his attention to his laptop computer before anyone responded.
Jonah's eyes narrowed. “The hell with you, too,” he muttered. He glanced at Terrence, who seemed to be choking back some evil words of his own. (c) Really, how did this come about? Due to this, our hero came across as immature and I'm not sure it was the intention of the author.
And the whole 'You have been endowed' routine isn't probably the best one ever.
Q:
Time, word of mouth, and history have an interesting way of twisting what's accurate. (c)
Q:
“There is no such thing as death,… To be frank, there is no such thing as birth, either. There is only life. Life is all there is.” (c)
Q:
Jonah couldn't help but allow glimmers of the same vision to permeate the negative cloud that shrouded his mind. It'd be great to have the safe haven of a padded chair, a comfortable table, and mounds of paper just waiting to be covered with spellbinding tomes, all-encompassing verses, and thrilling tales that would etch their place in history and remain undeterred in the annals of time. (c)
Q:
imagination. His wild imagination was one of his most prized possessions, one of the reasons why he wanted to be a writer. He had always wanted to be one, from the minute he developed the dexterity and strength in his hand to hold a pencil and pen. The problem (or so he had been told back then by well-meaning adults) was that his fascination with “fantastical tales” was unhealthy. In high school, he was told that his brand of writing was known as “grossly imaginative meandering” (he believed that the teacher who'd told him that, Mr. Tann, had invented that classification, as he hadn't heard it before or since), and was evidence that he was “incapable of modern writing and was dedicated to imitating the writing styles of authors hundreds of years in the grave.” (c)
Q:
He continued to write, but the years of unconstructive criticism eventually succeeded in taking the wind out of his sails. (c)
Q:
“You are wrong. This isn't your imagination.” And the text was written in black ink. These words, however, were light blue. (c)
Q:
He also noticed that his mind, which had just been so clear and alert, was now back to its normal state. That was not a good thing, as the normal state was always muddled. (c)
Q:
And, strangest of all, did he just channel Zeus and summon wind and electricity? (c)
Q:
said. “Your major is not a limitation, and you are not stuck. The door to opportunity is never locked, friend. It might be jammed and warped sometimes, sure, but never locked. You've just got to put some extra force behind your foot when you kick it down.” (c)
Q:
“It's Friday night! Evening's going to be laced with fun because of that fact alone! I simply go where the night takes me. You never know what wonders you'll find! 'Night!”… Against his better judgment, he decided to see for himself. (c)
Q:
Jonah was not ready to be a new guy again. That was always the worst part. That was how it was in school, and things hadn't improved when he'd made it to adulthood, either. But one thing that slightly dulled his resistance was the fact that there was no way six people could break into several different cliques and talk about people. Not usually, anyway. (c)
Q:
“I would greet you properly, but I want to finish chopping up these vegetables; I have to make my juice. (c)
Q:
I think that over the next few days, Jonathan and the rest of us will have your head spinning.”
Jonah wasn't sure he enjoyed the sound of that, but he nodded at her. “I've always liked learning new things.” (c)
Q:
It was what it was; he couldn't miss people he'd never known. (c)
Q:
Could those wonderful insights that shone so brightly in his youth have possibly been spiritually inclined inspirations? (c)
Q:
“You should tell him you thought that. Terrence is a janitor that goes back and forth between the two high schools in Rome.”
“What! Why?”
“The same reason why I do clerical work when my passion is painting. The same reason why you're an accountant when your desire is to be a writer. Working our way into our respective niches is a struggle.” (c)
Q:
“Loss can be sad, but not because it's supposed to be,… Nor does it have to be morbid or depressing, as you put it. The term that would be most accurate would likely be 'misunderstood.' I'm willing to give you that. It is misunderstood. No one talks about it, they simply hide within themselves and allow their sanity and resolve to wither and break down without ever trying to understand exactly what passing is. Since it is not comprehended, the label of 'morbid' is slapped upon it and treated as law. Very limited train of thought, wouldn't you say?” (c)
Q:
One's anguish can be as resolute as bars on the cell in which they imprison themselves.
Jonah blinked. Did he just write that?
Mind clearer than it had been in a long time, he wrote on:The misconception of mankind is that prisons are extraneous. This is not the case, as extraneous factors can be altered or erased with laughable simplicity. That which lies in the internal is made of stronger material by far, as it is unseen, ever evolving, and limitless.The truest and most beneficial course of action, then, is to morph and transform the prisons we create in our own minds, for as they are opened, so too are the ones that were physically manifested. (c)
Q:
Jonah sat back. He lifted the paper and stared at it like a rare jewel or a winning Powerball ticket. The words came out of him as if they'd always been there, and with gathering excitement, he found that he wasn't done yet.
He wrote with fervor, speaking at length in the same vein that he'd begun. It came so readily that he didn't know where to stop. He hadn't had a literary inspiration in so long. The feeling was just all-consuming, like waking from a deep sleep or a dormant muscle suddenly being stimulated through exercise. He was so focused that he hadn't even registered Bast's presence on the bed next to him. Her meowing hadn't mattered. As far as he was concerned, it was familiar, a simple extension of sounds that were associated with the estate. The chirping birds, the sounds of the insects, Bast's meows…they all came with the territory. (с)
Q:
“Passing information through birds, Jonah?”… “Terrence, we use cats as heralds and scouts. Cut me some slack here.” (c)
Q:
He simply could not focus on those stupid billing reports and was pleasantly surprised to discover that when he stopped lying to himself about finishing them, the time passed all the more quickly. (c)
Q:
Do yourself a service, son… Climb out of the future, and think only of this moment. Realize the outcomes of the future are created out of decisions made in the present moments. (c)