The boyhood dream has come true for Shawn Michaels.
Get your runtcheeks down those stairs, right now
. . . You'd think the little part about them supposedly killing us would be the attention getter.
I love the sound of it," Trina whispers, as if speaking too loudly might interrupt the drumming patter of the rain outside. "It makes me want to sleep. Snuggle my head right up in your armpit and snore for three days. " "My armpit?" Mark repeats. "Good thing we all showered up in the storm this morning. My pits smell like roses. Go ahead and get comfy.
Ah, my Knight in Shining Armor. What, you don't think I can fend for myself?
We were lining up and counting off nice and easy till you came stumbling through like a doped-up bull,' Minho responded.
Thomas had a depressing - and scary - thought. 'Am I. . . replacing someone? Did somebody get killed?' Minho shook his head. 'No, we're just training you - someone'll want a break. Don't worry, it's been a while since a Runner was killed. ' For some reason that last statement worried Thomas, though he hoped it didn't show on his face.
Ill health is also a blessing. The flesh and the ego are weakened and contemplation of God becomes easier.
I'm an old sinner. Nothing shocks me.
As much as the world has an instinct for evil and is a breeding ground for genocide, holocaust, slavery, racism, war, oppression, and injustice, the world has an even greateer instinct for goodness, rebirth, mercy, beauty, truth, freedom and love.
I suppose I could collect my books and get on back to school, or steal my Daddy's cue and make a living out of playing pool.