HUNDREDS OF YEARS’ worth of time to teach a computer program about the nuances of humanity, and the old man still hadn’t managed to hit everything.       Makes Sam wonder what exactly they did spend all their time talking about in that little bunker out in the middle of nowhere. And how his dad had still seemed so… sane. 

          ❛ Uh, yeah, ❜ he tells her, glancing over her shoulder at the words on the page. ❛ It’s theater, right? So, there’s this old superstition that you tell someone in theater to break a leg when you’re wishing them good luck. I have no idea where it comes from. ❜

      “  metaphors.  reading  them  in  a  book  is  one  thing,  but  hearing  them  outside  of  this  context?         ”        there’s  a  small  pause  and  a  glimpse  of  innocence  in  quorra’s  eyes  when  a  bright  idea  comes  to  mind.  although  her  shyness  is  dominant  with  the  creator’s  son,  the  iso  simply  cannot  avoid  the  enjoyment  of  seeing  sam  flynn  smile.   

here lies supreme tranquility. the sea doesn’t belong to tyrants. on its surface they can still exercise their iniquitous claims, battle each other, devour each other, haul every earthly horror. but thirty feet below sea level, their dominion ceases, their influence fades, their power vanishes.     

    “  the  character  told  this  girl  to  break  a  leg.   but  he  can’t  mean  that  literally         that’d  be..  bad  .”        deep  in  thought,  quorra  leans  into  her  palm  for  support.  this  book  was  different.  confusing.   born  apart  from  the  user  world,  renders  the  iso  slow  at  catching  certain  emotion  within  dialogs.    but  that  doesn’t  stop  her  from  wanting  answers.      silver  and  green  hues  are  eager  to  find  sam,  their  creator’s  son  and  someone  who  she  adores  endlessly.      “ is  this  another  figure  of  speech  ?”