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“She found Diana’s room. Diana was sitting in her bed using a remote control to idly flip through the channels on the wall-mounted TV.“You,” Diana said by way of greeting.“Me,” Astrid said.“Can’t believe it,” Diana said. “All this time. And there’s still nothing on.”Astrid laughed and lowered herself slowly into a chair. “You know how they say hospital food is so awful? Somehow I’m not having that reaction.”“Tapioca beats rat,” Diana said.“I never minded rat as much as that dog jerky we were getting for a while. The stuff Albert had them flavor with celery salt? That was the culinary low point for me.”“Yeah, well, I had a lower low point,” Diana said, sounding angry. Or maybe not angry, maybe hurt.Astrid put a hand on Diana’s arm, and Diana did not shake it off.”
Michael Grant“She found Diana’s room. Diana was sitting in her bed using a remote control to idly flip through the channels on the wall-mounted TV.“You,” Diana said by way of greeting.“Me,” Astrid said.“Can’t believe it,” Diana said. “All this time. And there’s still nothing on.”Astrid laughed and lowered herself slowly into a chair. “You know how they say hospital food is so awful? Somehow I’m not having that reaction.”“Tapioca beats rat,” Diana said.“I never minded rat as much as that dog jerky we were getting for a while. The stuff Albert had them flavor with celery salt? That was the culinary low point for me.”“Yeah, well, I had a lower low point,” Diana said, sounding angry. Or maybe not angry, maybe hurt.Astrid put a hand on Diana’s arm, and Diana did not shake it off.”
Michael Grant, Light“Female say Pack Leader stop,” Pack Leader said angrily.“What?” Caine could make no sense of it till he saw Diana striding up, dark hair flying, eyes furious.“I told this filthy beast to stop,” Diana said, barely controlled.“Stop what?” Caine demanded.“They’re still attacking the kids,” Diana said. “We’ve won. Sam is dead. Call them off, Caine.”Caine turned his attention back to the battle between Drake and the monster. “They’re coyotes,” Caine said coldly.Diana flew at him. “You’ve lost your mind, Caine. This has to stop. You’ve won. This has to stop.”“Or what, Diana? Or what?” Caine demanded. “Go get Lana. I’m hurt. Pack Leader, do what you want.”“Maybe this is why your mother abandoned you,” Diana said savagely. “Maybe she could see that you weren’t just bad, you were twisted and sick and evil.”
Michael Grant, Gone“Diana frowns. “You’re taking me home, right? You just said you would.” “Hoink hoink! Of course, piglet. But I meant your real home.” “Which, last I checked,” says Diana acidly, “is in Los Angeles, California, United States of America, solar system, planet Earth.” “Hmm,” says the boar, hiccupping dreamily. “That’s what you think, darling. Tell me, can you say you’ve felt really at home at that address? Haven’t you been homesick your whole life?”
Martha N. Beck, Diana, Herself: An Allegory of Awakening“Let them go, Caine,” Diana pleaded.“Why, Diana? Why do you betray me?”“Betray you?” Diana laughed. “Betray you? I’ve been with you every day, every hour, from the start of this nightmare!”Caine looked at her. “But you hate me, anyway.”“No, you sick, stupid creep, I love you. I shouldn’t. I shouldn’t. You’re sick inside, Caine, sick! But I love you.”
Michael Grant, Lies“Do you love me?” Diana asked.Caine’s eyes widened. She could actually see him twitch. Like a startled animal. Like a rabbit who had just heard a fox.“It’s a yes or no question,” Diana said acidly. “But I’ll accept a nod or a shake of the head or an incoherent grunt.”“I . . . I don’t know what you mean by that,” Caine said lamely.“When I jumped off the cliff, you saved me even though it meant letting Sanjit and the others escape.”“You didn’t give me much choice,” Caine said peevishly. “You had a choice. You wanted to destroy them.”“Okay.”“Why did you make that choice?”Caine swallowed and seemed to find his palms sweaty since he rubbed them on his sides.Diana walked to the door. She unlocked it and held it open. “Go away,” she said. “Come back when you figure out your answer.”
Michael Grant, Plague“They tell me that it will be hard to find a man strong enough to love my own strength and independence, and not worry about being Mr. Diana Ross, but I disagree. I know absolutely that that man is somewhere out there.”
Diana Ross“Mum had a Charles-and-Diana wedding mug that had survived longer than the marriage itself. Mum had worshipped Princess Di and frequently lamented her passing. "Gone," she would say, shaking her head in disbelief. "Just like that. All that exercise for nothing." Diana-worship was the nearest thing Mum had to a religion.”
Kate Atkinson, When Will There Be Good News?“Find Sam Temple. Tell him you escaped.”Jack gulped and bobbed his head.“Better yet, find that girl, Astrid.” Diana recovered some of her mocking attitude. “Astrid the Genius. She’ll be desperate to save Sam.”“Okay. Okay.” He steeled himself. “I better go.”Diana touched his arm. “Tell them about Andrew.”Jack froze with his hand on the key. “That’s what you want me to do?”“Jack, if Sam blinks out, Drake will turn on me, and Caine won’t be able to stop him. Drake is stronger than before. I need Sam alive. I need someone for Drake to hate. I need balance. Tell Sam about the temptation. Warn him that he’ll be tempted to surrender to the big jump, but maybe, maybe, if he says no…” She sighed. It was not a hopeful sound. “Now: go.”
Michael Grant, Gone“He is not my focus," Diana told writer Rodney Tyler of Arne. "He’s my husband, my companion, my lover, my confidant. But not my focus. I wasn’t lost, then found by Arne. I was single and met a wonderful man and we enjoyed each other’s company and enjoyed our times together. So it was not lost and found. That’s crap. I have never been lost.”
J. Randy Taraborrelli, Diana Ross: A Biography“The mirror image of suffering is the truth. Try it. Change the story. Change the course of your entire history. Right now.” “You want me to lie about my past?” Diana wipes tears from her face with the back of her hand. “No, to tell the story a truer way,” says Herself. “Any story can be told infinite ways, dear, but listen to me. Listen well. If a story liberates your soul, believe it. But if a story imprisons you, believe its mirror image.”
Martha N. Beck, Diana, Herself: An Allegory of Awakening