Rust, corrosion, wind, rain. The nibbling teeth of mice and the acrid droppings of insects and the devouring jaws of years. The was of nature upon machines, of the planet's chaotic forces upon the works of humankind. The energy that man had pulled from the earth was being inexorably pulled back into it, sucked like water down a drain. Before long, if it hadn't happened already, not a single high-tension pole would be left standing on the earth. Mankind had built a world that would take a hundred years to die. A century for the last light to go out.
What strange places our lives can carry us to, what dark passages. - Justin Cronin
What strange places our lives can carry us to, what dark passages.
- Justin Cronin
As long as we remember a person, they're not really gone. Their thoughts, their feelings, their memories, they become a part of us. - Justin Cronin
As long as we remember a person, they're not really gone. Their thoughts, their feelings, their memories, they become a part of us.
My rule has always been, write the next part of the book that you seem to know well. So I won't necessarily write chapter two after chapter one. - Justin Cronin
My rule has always been, write the next part of the book that you seem to know well. So I won't necessarily write chapter two after chapter one.
I have any number of completely dark obsessions and fascinations, and none of this was present in my profile or my growing profile as a writer. - Justin Cronin
I have any number of completely dark obsessions and fascinations, and none of this was present in my profile or my growing profile as a writer.
We live, we die. Somewhere along the way, if we're lucky, we may find someone to help lighten the load. - Justin Cronin
We live, we die. Somewhere along the way, if we're lucky, we may find someone to help lighten the load.
This ravishing world. This achingly bittersweet, ravishing world. - Justin Cronin
This ravishing world. This achingly bittersweet, ravishing world.
On a fading summer evening, late in the last hours of his old life, Peter Jaxon-son of Demetrius and Prudence Jaxon, First Family; descendent of Terr… - Justin Cronin
On a fading summer evening, late in the last hours of his old life, Peter Jaxon-son of Demetrius and Prudence Jaxon, First Family; descendent of Terr…
Behind every writer stands a very large bookshelf. - Justin Cronin
Behind every writer stands a very large bookshelf.
A thousand recollected lives were passing through her, a thousand stories - of love and work, of parents and children, of duty and joy and grief. Bed… - Justin Cronin
A thousand recollected lives were passing through her, a thousand stories - of love and work, of parents and children, of duty and joy and grief. Bed…
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