“I want to Live! Not Die, Not Hide, LIVE!”

“Sure you can be a coward and hope somone else changes the wrld for you. You can hide up in that attic of yours until someone knocks on the door and says, 'Oh, hey, they freed the hidden. Want to come out?' Is that what you want"Luke didnt answer"You've got to come, Luke, or you'll hate yourself the rest of your life. When you dont have to hide anymore, even years from now, there'll always be some small part of you whispering 'I don't deserve this. I didnt fight for it. I'm not worth it.' And you are, Luke, you are. You're smart and funny and nice, and you should be living life, instead of being buried alive in that old house of yours”

“bitter is a bad way to live!”

“We'll have a 'rest of our lives' now,”

“He looked at the piles of food again, and it was like he was seeing it with new eyes. "This is wrong", he thought, "Letting food rot while people die of hunger. It's evil."....He breathed in the too-sweet smell of rotting food, "I can stop this evil.”

“You know how to steer a yacht?" Mr. McIntyre asked Ian worriedly."I was born knowing how to steer a yacht," Ian said. Then a stricken look came over his face. "But–do you suppose Jonah prepaid the full amount for renting this? Once my dad hears what Natalie and I did, he'll cancel our credit cards.""You mean we're...we're poor now?" Natalie gasped."Penniless," Ian said grimly."Actually," Mr. McIntyre said, "I should have mentioned this before the others left. Grace had an addendum to her will regarding everyone who made it through the gauntlet. There were eight of you–you will all receive double the amount you turned down to get the first clue.""It was a million dollars originally," Ian said. "So Natalie and I each get two million dollars? I suppose we could live on that."Natalie beamed."That is such a relief!" she said. "Being poor wasn't quite as bad as I thought it would be, but still–""You were only poor for about two seconds!" Dan protested, rolling his eyes.”

“A thousand times today I've started to open my mouth, started to squeak out, "Can you tell me...? But then I'd look into the front seat, at my mother's silent shaking, my father's grim profile, the mournful bags under his eyes, and all the questions I might ask seemed abusive. Assault and battery, a question mark used like a club. My parents are old and fragile. I'd have to heartless to want to hurt them.”