"Today for you; tomorrow for me."
The schoolteacher was right: Kestrel had become a wild thing. The wildness coursed through her, glorious and liberating, as she swung from side to side on the top of the wind singer and shouted all the terrible, unthinkable thoughts that had been bottled up within her for so long. She had gone so far now, she had broken so many rules and said such wicked things, that she knew she would suffer the most severe punishment; and since what was done could not be undone, she was free to be as bad as she wanted to be.
Uhura: “Did I not, on multiple occasions, demonstrate an exceptional aural sensitivity, and I quote, ‘an unparalleled ability to identify sonic anomalies in subspace transmissions tests?’”
Spock: “Consistently, yes.”
Uhura: “And while you are well aware of my own qualified desires to serve on the USS Enterprise, I’m assigned to the Farragut?”
Spock: “It was an attempt to avoid the appearance of favoritism.”
Uhura: “No. I’m assigned to the Enterprise.”
Spock: “Yes, I believe you are.”
Uhura: “Thank you.”
"Haven’t you heard? I’m the crazy bitch around here."
"It’s more than time some things were said and done in the open, instead of underground like a nation of moles. This time, I’m going to stop a man from knitting his own noose."
Chief Tyrol: “What do you want to do now, Captain?”
Kara Thrace: “The same thing we always do. Fight ‘em until we can’t.”
"Whatever comes cannot alter one thing. If I am a princess in rags and tatters, I can be a princess inside. It would be easy to be a princess if I were dressed in cloth of gold, but it is a great deal more of a triumph to be one all the time when no one knows it."
I’m not acting out. I’m a witch. I— I can make pencils float. And I can summon the four elements! Okay, two, but four soon. And— and I’m dating a musician!
"I tell thee that although it is a long time on the road, it is on the road and coming. I tell thee it never retreats, and never stops. I tell thee it is always advancing. Look around and consider the lives of all the world that we know, consider the faces of all the world that we know, consider the rage and discontent to which the Jacquerie addresses itself with more and more of certainty every hour. ‘Can such things last?’ Bah! I mock you."
For hadn’t Leslie, even in Terabithia, tried to push back the walls of his mind and make him see beyond to the shining world—huge and terrible and beautiful and very fragile?