Ender's Game Quotes And Page Numbers Novels & Stories

Surely someone who has nothing to hide would be confused by why Dante would be telling them all this now, so I look at him in confusion. At least I hope it's confusion on my face and not fear Instead of answering my silent question, he makes his way to the fridge which I've stepped away from to retrieve a beer. I couldn't have found a better opportunity to escape. ******* ENZO'S POV "Come on. Come on, buddy. Let's win.. let's win." Zeke grunts out as his fingers work diligently on his game pad. I chuckle because of the sheer gusto in the boy's voice, and also because I know there's no way in hell the boy is going to win. I won the first game we played and this is our second.

His bloody lower lip cracking little by little into nothing but a dangerous smile, or maybe with a little emotion of worry. Though he got neither a nod or response out of her, he nodded affirmatively at her before turning back to continue his walk out of the garden. He was almost out when he stopped and hesitated a bit before turning back around. His eyes directed at no one else but Xander. His eyes was glued on Xander's face as the words spurred out of his mouth, he wants his words resounding in his ear for better preparation against their forthcoming war; "Don't think this game has end, just know am still coming back. Be prepared cause alas!, I can come at any f*vking time, and you should

"Elna Stark." "Yes, baby?" I reply with the innocence of a child while batting my eyelashes at him. "Why did you end the game?" he asks, his hand pointed to the screen. "Why?" Waiting for him to look my way, my fingers grip the hem of my T-Shirt, I murmur, "I don’t know what you are talking about, I didn’t do anything." He lets out a sigh, I smile. "You can declare me the winner." The suggestion is ludicrous in every sense since he is leading by three goals, I pull off my shirt and add, "Just declare me the winner."

We should have defeated them and made it appear simple, but we failed to do so. We gave the impression that it was amateur hour. Twenty minutes after the game, Moretti is seated at his locker room stall, tearing tape while removing his pads from his knees and elbows, his arsehole mouth continuously spewing excrement. "Hey, Bennett, thanks for the help," he adds in a sarcastic tone. I nod and grin, remembering my mother's advice to rise above it. Do it, she said. The message was straightforward to understand. "Above it, rise." That may even be understood by a moron. "Nice one, bud," he says. "A strategy to maintain puck possession, even if it means losing the game." "I didn't hold onto the da

I said, scanning the room with unease. And where the fuck was that explosion? "Maybe they recognized your genius. What's the famous saying? 'Game recognizes game'?" Erwin tried, offering a small smile. "Somehow, I feel I can guarantee that's not the case," I shook my head, feeling the weight of the silence in the air. Maybe Lance came to his senses and decided to be reasonable. Or maybe the sun would rise in the west. Something was incredibly off.

I held my signed hat in my hand, admiring the scribble of permanent ink that the quarterback had left on the bill. “I knew they’d come to play in the second half,” he replied. “They’re always stronger after halftime.” “I know, but it’s hard to put faith in that,” I said, tracing the signature with my finger. “I was pretty nervous until we threw that last touchdown.” We approached my car and I suddenly felt a sinking feeling. The date was coming to an end. I wasn’t ready for it to be over, though. I was still buzzing from an exciting evening. It wasn't even just the game. It was being with Gabe.

"What?? You can't... You gave me your word." Nathan's smile grew even wider, his eyes glinting with amusement. "Yes, I did give you my word," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "I have a perfect answer for your question, remember?" Mr. Daniel's face contorted in confusion, his eyes narrowing as he struggled to understand Nathan's words. Nathan's smirk grew even wider as he delivered the final blow. "You have your Phrase and Clause starting with the word 'Death'."

That is the thing I see from the south stand. You are finding out that you are better at understanding the game than you were at playing it, and you have been doing it all season and nobody has said it to you yet. Another quiet. Marcus said something like it, he said finally. He said I was thinking faster. Marcus watches from the technical area, she said. I watch from the south stand. Different angle. She picked up her glass. He sees the thinking. I see what the thinking does to the body. What it costs. She said

“ i used to be in my twenties but then I quit it as I didn’t had time. “ Enola felt surge of pride flowing through her veins “ even back then none of my opponents played the game like you did. This is the hardest yet the best game I had played in my entire life” Johns’s father praised

“Sometimes it does. Sometimes it just strips everything extra away. And then it’s you and the game. No excuses. No noise. Just whether you’re enough for the moment in front of you.” The room was completely silent now. Not because the answer was loud. Because it wasn’t. Because it was too honest. I wrote the quote down in a rush, hand shaking hard enough to slant the letters. One of the local reporters jumped in after a beat, trying to pull the room back toward standard press availability. Asked about chemistry with Marcus. Another asked whether the Eagles’ neutral-zone pressure had surprised them early. The normal rhythm resumed, but only on the surface. The answer was still sitting there.