Strange the Dreamer (Strange the Dreamer, #1) by Laini TaylorThe dream chooses the dreamer, not the other way around—and Lazlo Strange, war orphan and junior librarian, has always feared that his dream chose poorly. Since he was five years old he’s been obsessed with the mythic lost city of Weep, but it would take someone bolder than he to cross half the world in search of it. Then a stunning opportunity presents itself, in the person of a hero called the Godslayer and a band of legendary warriors, and he has to seize his chance or lose his dream forever.
What happened in Weep two hundred years ago to cut it off from the rest of the world? What exactly did the Godslayer slay that went by the name of god? And what is the mysterious problem he now seeks help in solving?
The answers await in Weep, but so do more mysteries—including the blue-skinned goddess who appears in Lazlo’s dreams. How did he dream her before he knew she existed? And if all the gods are dead, why does she seem so real?
Welcome to Weep.
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See: stranger. Mentioned in? References in classic literature? I was sorry for Ginger, but of course I knew very little then, and I thought most likely she made the worst of it; however, I found that as the weeks went on she grew much more gentle and cheerful, and had lost the watchful, defiant look that she used to turn on any strange person who came near her; and one day James said, "I do believe that mare is getting fond of me, she quite whinnied after me this morning when I had been rubbing her forehead. View in context. Strange person - yet perhaps not so very different from ourselves.
Only in an atomised society could the word for a person you are yet to meet be "stranger," their label in your thoughts having its roots in the word "strange" with that slight emotional predisposition toward rejection. There are cultures that have no such word because people they haven't met yet are assumed to be friends, the emotional predisposition toward the positive and acceptance. So how about we change the word? What could it be? This beautiful and positive stranger, he strangled the anger and suffocated the hate. In its place love blossomed as if he were a saint and an angel, this stranded stranger I took into my home. He's so much younger than I had expected.
He looked as if he had just blown in from a tropical photo-shoot. He wore a safari jacket, combat pants and desert boots, and had a warm, peculiarly direct Italian gaze. And because he appeared well past sixty and showed no visible signs of madness, I briefly returned his smile when he took the seat opposite mine. You could tell from his face that the decision had been the right one. This was a man who smiled more often than he scowled.
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Custom Search. Sponsored Links. I find her odd because of what she wears every day to work - a frilly and feathery purple hat! It did not matter what clothes she wore on that day or if the colour of her clothes matched her hat because she would still wear it, rain or shine. When I first saw her, I could not help laughing rudely because the purple hat looked ridiculous on her head.