OK,” I said. “Forget the whole thing.” “Really?” “Orders are orders,” I said. “The alternative is anarchy and chaos.

I can control my feelings by controlling my thoughts.

And gears," said Anathema. "My bike didn't have gears. I'm sure my bike didn't have gears."  Crowley leaned over to the angel. "Oh lord, heal this bike," he whispered sarcastically.  "I'm sorry, I just got carried away," hissed Aziraphale.

They accepted the pleasures of morning, the bright sun, the whelming sea and sweet air, as a time when play was good and life so full that hope was not necessary and therefore forgotten.

Written By William Golding

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