Irving Lam

“Well, I'm glad you're so amused," I said, running my fingers across the railing.
Maxon hopped up to sit on the railing, looking very relaxed. "You're always amusing. Get used to it."
Hmm. He was almost being funny.
"So...about what you said...," he started tentatively.
"Which part? The part about me calling you names or fighting with my mom or saying food was my motivation?" I rolled my eyes.
He laughed once. "The part about me being good..."
"Oh. What about it?" Those few sentences suddenly seemed more embarrassing than anything else I'd said. I ducked my head down and twisted a piece of my dress.
"I appreciate you making things look authentic, but you didn't need to go that far."
My head snapped up. How could he think that?
"Maxon, that wasn't for the sake of the show. If you had asked me a month ago what my honest opinion of you was, it would have been very different. But now I know you, and I know the truth, and you are everything I said you were. And more."
He was quiet, but there was a small smile on his face.
"Thank you," he finally said.
"Anytime."
Maxon cleared his throat. "He'll be lucky, too." He got down from his makeshift seat and walked to my side of the balcony.
"Huh?"
"Your boyfriend. When he comes to his senses and begs you to take him back," Maxon said matter-of-factly.
I had to laugh. No such thing would happen in y world.
"he's not my boyfriend anymore. And he made it pretty clear he was gone with me." Even I could hear the tiny bit of hope in my voice.
"Not possible. He'll have seen you on TV by now and fallen for you all over again. Though, in my opinion, you're still much too good for the dog." Maxon spoke almost as if he was bored, like he'd seen this happen a million times.
"Speaking of which!" he said a bit louder. "If you don't want me to be in love with you, you're going to have to stop looking so lovely. First thing tomorrow I'm having your maids sew some potato sacks together for you."
I hit his arm. "Shut up, Maxon."
"I'm not kidding. You're too beautiful for your own good. Once you leave, we'll have to send some of the guards with you. You'll never survive on your own, poor thing." He said all this with mock pity.
"I can't help it." I sighed. "One can never help being born into perfection." I fanned my face as if being so pretty was exhausting.
"No, I don't suppose you can help it.”
― Kiera Cass, The Selection

“I believe in work. If somebody doesn't create something, however small it may be, he gets sick. An awful lot of people feel that they're treading water -- that if they vanished in smoke, it wouldn't mean anything at all in this world. And that's a despairing and destructive feeling. It'll kill you.”
― Arthur Miller

“Some days are better than others, for human optimism has no limits.”
― Max Nowaz, The Arbitrator

“I should be exhausted, but I'm not. I'm much too keyed up to sleep. Probably it's myour imagination, but when I close my eyes and sit very still, I swear I can feel the baby inside me. Not moving, nothing like that, it's far too early. Just a kind of warm and hopeful presence, this new soul my body carries, waiting to be born into the world. I feel ... what's the word?
Happy. I feel happy.
Shots outside. I am going to look.


*****END OF DOCUMENT*****
Recovered at Roswell Site ("Roswell Massacre")”
― Justin Cronin, The Passage