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Only silly Dorothys arrive in a magical land and want to go home. You don't want to be a silly stinking Dorothy, do you? They're reviled throughout every wondrous land. Did you know the name Dorothy translates as "squandered opportunity"?
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Writers never really like each other anyway. Our insecurities get in the way.
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We live through the belief of children...Regicide is suicide, citizens. Inscribe that in your hearts. The Great Pretend is a fragile construct.
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Who can gauge all the ways in which the Gods who've created you craft your life?
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Life is a giant, coagulated bowl of suck.
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If they've managed to bring more firepower than us, we deserve to lose. But we aren't going to lose, because we're the Page sisters and we're librarians.
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Murderers don't get forgiven just because we promise to be good from now on. We have to earn our way back. One hundred is the price. One hundred lives for each we took. That seems fair. That's how we get whole again and that's our work, from now until as long as it takes.
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What's our plan? Well, reviewing our assets, we don't have artillery, nor enough grenades. And since we also lack a wheelbarrow and Holocaust cloak... Very funny, Pete.
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Freedom is sloppy. But since tyranny's the only guaranteed byproduct of those who insist on a perfect world, freedom will have to do.
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It is my fondest desire to bust a host of caps into multitudes of fleshy personages.
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The turtle stands on a turtle, which stands on a turtle. That's the universe in whole, boy. It's turtles all the way down.
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Those who insist we band together tend to see themselves in charge.
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One of the advantages of -- of this -- is that dying men are allowed complete and brutal candor.
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While he lived, entire worlds weren't enough to contain him. Now six good feet of earth are sufficient.
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Hope isn't destiny. Left passive its nothing more than disappointment deferred.
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Sometimes impossible things are entirely possible, if there's magic enough in the world.
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...I give you real world-changers like Homer, Jack Kirby, and the aforementioned Shakespeare as the archangels of pure story.
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The only easy day was yesterday.
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We tell stories to live, to love, to prosper and to fail.
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Oh, don't mind Humpty. He's inhaled a hell of a lot of super-glue.
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Baba Yaga: I've never heard of such a creature. What are his powers? Magic Mirror: He reads. He reads everything.
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Yeah, well my heart bleeds for you: You know what they say. The only easy day was yesterday.
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One thing I have finally gotten through my thick skull: Anyone looking for love is also looking for trouble.
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Acquiring true wisdom is always a greater burden than transient pain.