“Ocultarme no está en mi naturaleza, prefiero enfrentar las cosas de frente. Supongo”
“They are the eyes of a poet, or painter—an artist, a tortured soul.”
“Here's to everyone who has survived something devastating-- something that shattered your self-confidence and distorted your world in one blow. Whether you were fierce in the face of it or fell to pieces or shoved it out of sight for years-- I don't care how you got here. Every day you are stronger. Every day you are healing. Every day that you survive, you are telling that event, that person, that illness, that memory: YOU DO NOT DEFINE ME. Keep on.
“The more sin he sees, the more his belief in Original Sin is confirmed. Everyone likes to have his deepest convictions confirmed: that is one of the most abiding of human satisfaction.”
“And the officers in question admitted this to you, did they?” “Some of them did, yes. Though of course they’d never admit it in public.” “Oh, of course,” I said. “They’d been bringing him in for questioning for years, all related to various murders. They could get nothing to stick, until one of his People slipped up and got himself arrested. He told the cops everything. He told them more than everything. He told them about stuff so bizarre and insane that he had to be making it up, but within all that craziness he knew enough details about open murder cases that they were forced to take him seriously.” “So did they have enough to arrest Moon?” Chrissy took a moment to sip her drink. “It didn’t make any difference. Their key witness, who had agreed to testify and name Moon as the one who’d done all the killing, died in his cell the same night they went to search Moon’s house. He hanged himself with a sheet.” “How inconvenient,” I said, but Chrissy ignored me and continued. “You should know this part,” she said. “The cops have their warrant, knock on the door, don’t get an answer, and they break the door down. They find Bubba Moon’s body in the basement, lying in the middle of a circle, surrounded by occult symbols.” The”
“He knew he was sounding a little Holden Caulfield-esque calling everyone a phony, but he really did think everyone was a phony.”
“You won't hurt me. I know you won't." Logan said.
"How can you be so sure?" I whispered.
"Because you're that Gypsy girl, and I'm the bad-boy Spartan. And I think it's time we were finally together, don't you?”
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