The House in the Cerulean Sea

ornery

amenable,”

sconces

donsy.

“Oh, that’s an understatement if I ever heard one. Schopenhauer said—” “Schopenhauer? I take back every nice thing I’ve ever said about you, Linus. You are banished from the island. Leave immediately.” “He had some very pointed critiques! And he did so only to further validate Kant’s work!”

derision.

“Humanity is so weird. If we’re not laughing, we’re crying or running for our lives because monsters are trying to eat us. And they don’t even have to be real monsters. They could be the ones we make up in our heads. Don’t you think that’s weird?” “I suppose. But I’d rather be that way than the alternative.” “Which is?” “Not feeling anything at all

It was Thursday morning when the anger of men came to a head.

“I am but paper. Brittle and thin. I am held up to the sun, and it shines right through me. I get written on, and I can never be used again. These scratches are a history. They’re a story. They tell things for others to read, but they only see the words, and not what the words are written upon. I am but paper, and though there are many like me, non