“I can close the book on this part of our history. I can start a new chapter, but it doesn't matter. because now, the magic is everywhere.”

“Because now, the magic is everywhere.”

“Total?" I called. He looked up alertly, then ran over to me, small pink tongue hanging out.Total?" I said when he was close. "Can you talk?"He flopped down on the grass, panting slightly. "Yeah. So?"Jeezum. I mean, mutant weirdos are nothing new to me, you know? But a talking dog?”

“Margo, they're afraid of us. They're afraid of everything.' And then I kept on talking without really thinking, until it turned into a chant:They're afraid of change, and we must change.They're afraid of the young, and we are the young.They're afraid of music, and music is our life.They're afraid of books, and knowledge, and ideas.They're most afraid of our magic.”

“They're afraid of change, and we must change. They're afraid of the young, and we are the young. They're afraid of music, and music is our life. They're afraid of books, and knowledge, and ideas. They're most afraid of our magic.”

“We want Max to... breed. To produce heirs. Who will govern the world after she dies."Dead silence for quite some time. We all stared at Dr. Hans, our jaws dropped to various levels. Our lives had reached a new low of inhumanity.My face flushed. Part of me had assumed, hoped, that if Fang and I lived long enough, we would get married. Maybe have a little flock of our own. But i really hadn't planned it all out. And he was gone now, anyway. How could I possibly ever find someone...My eyes scanned Dylan's face, I saw his discomfort."Oh, no," I said in horror."Yes," Angel confirmed. "Freaking unbelievable.”

“A PoemBy Max White is the color of little bunnies with pink noses. White is the color of fluffy clouds fluffing their way across the sky. White is the color of angel's wings and Angel's wings. White is the color of brand-new ankle socks fresh out of the bag. White is the color of crisp sheets in schmancy hotels. White is the color of every last freaking, gol-danged thing you see for endless miles and miles if you happen to be in Antarctica trying to save the world, which now you aren't so sure you can do because you feel like if you see any more whiteness-Wonder Bread, someone's underwear, teeth-you will completely and totally lose your ever-lovin' mind and wind up pushing a grocery cart full of empty cans around New York City, muttering to yourself. That was my first poem ever. Okay, so it's not Shakespeare, but I liked it.”