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I really do believe some people are naturally novelists and some people are short story writers. For me, when I was in middle school or high school, I started with novels.
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'What kind of idiot do you think I am?''I have no idea what kind of idiot you are,' Miss Jesczenka said. 'That’s why I’m asking.'
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Could one die from boredom, she wondered? From complete, oppressive, crushing, unmitigated boredom, the likes of which made all other boredom seem like ecstasy’s sweet thrilling embrace? And in such a case, if one happened to have a life insurance policy, would it pay?
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Sadly, there is a fine line between patriotism and paranoia.
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You know, there’s one thing about you that always astonishes me. The longer you talk, the wronger you get.
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I love those books like 'Gone with the Wind,' the huge, sweeping family sagas.
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The obsessive rules of etiquette struck Emily as mean-spirited, like the old trick of tying someone’s shoelaces under the table. It was only fun if you liked watching people fall down.
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Emily’s chestnut-colored hair was thick and shiny as silk floss-an extraordinary female endowment. But like most female endowments, it was generally more trouble than it was worth.
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I don’t think that’s the answer he was looking for. It’s not the answer I was looking for. But maybe it’s the right one.
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In New Bethel, we take the word serious. We whip whores, we hang thieves, and we burn sorcerers.
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Emily pounded on the door, assuming it would do no good, but finding the act of pounding very satisfying indeed.
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'Was your mother furious?''She’ll get over it,' Stanton said. 'Perhaps not in this lifetime, but I happen to believe in reincarnation, so there’s still hope.'
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Love. Such a lot of damn fuss.
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'I’m sorry Mr. Stanton, really I am. I didn’t mean to miss it. Things...happened.''Oh, well. Things happened. How nice to have that cleared up.'