When gods die, they die hard. It’s not like they fade away, or grow old, or fall asleep. They die in fire and pain, and when they come out of you, they leave your guts burned. It hurts more than anything you can talk about. And maybe worst of all is, you’re not sure if there will ever be another god to fill their place. Or if you’d ever want another god to fill their place. You don’t want the fire to go out inside you twice.
- Gary D. Schmidt, The Wednesday Wars (via armenotti:)
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woollensocksandbrownmocs reblogged this from poetbabble and added:
Whenever Professor Schmidt’s stuff is on my dash I mental squeal and yell “That’s my professor!”
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