What's the best line you've written in a story?

And then, his afterlife flashed before his eyes

As Keith led Flax out of the arcade, he realized a major flaw in his already-dubious plan:

How was he going to sneak a whole cervitaur all the way back to his apartment?

Well, there was only one way to find out.

Gentle fingers brushed against his temples, tucking stray, wheat blonde strands of hair away from his vision

I reached out for her hand, fingers trembling with the weight of memories we once shared. But as my desperate touch met only the empty void, I felt the chill of loneliness seep into my bones, a haunting reminder of the love we once knew, now lost to the relentless passage of time. And in that solitary moment, I realized that the echoes of our laughter had faded into silence, leaving me stranded in a world devoid of warmth, longing for the embrace of a love that now existed only in the shadows of my fractured heart.

“It’s better to hold the light to the point it hurts than to fall into the darkness.”

“Want to know how I know William understands it? (truth)”
“Oh? How?”
“He hasn’t given up.”

He would figure it out eventually; how to find a home.

"Your skull is thicker and hotter than this planet's mantle. And you're not even a guy. What you're going to do, is take this backpack full of rocks and carry this bundle of sticks all the way up that hill right there, and back down."

Lily thought she was a misfit. Then she met an alien...

Urban growth and its noise fluttered in through the window. Cars kept rolling, the earth kept spinning. Yet something stalled within the room, echoing through the walls and floor. As if the place's heart had stopped beating, instead replacing it with loaded quiet. The type that grows fuzzy around the corners yet struck with a melancholy that remained un-whole. Words never bend to explain the missing presence. It just is

Space, is a deep, deep place. Full of many things: Holes and debris and loose things that float about and are unknown and unseen to all; but, mostly, full nothingness. It is, itself an immense nothingness, an encapturing void without feeling or recompense. Like a sea, deprived of fish-life that goes ever deeper and deeper until the suns rays are but speckled, twinklings indistinguishable from their true form, and you are not sure if you are upside down, or rightside up, or on your side, and gravity is no more and you begin to wonder if there is a right way up, or if there ever was a gravity to keep you grounded. For there is no seabed in the ocean of space; it just keeps going.

There were all kinds of sounds in the forest today. The buzzing of insects, the chirping of small creatures, and the distant screams of a million tortured souls.