“Everybody’s got somewhere to go. Just takes some folks longer to figure out where to.”
“I guess it comes down to greed. You don’t pay folks, you make more money. That and thinking one race wasn’t as good as another.”
“What’s a quick fling in the sack compared to decades of indifference?”
“She wrote the phone number down on another slip of paper, rushed into the bathroom, crumpled up the letter, and flushed it down the toilet. For one paralyzing moment she envisioned federal law enforcement agents hiding somewhere in the White House intercepting her toilet water and reconstructing the letter. But that was impossible. That was the stuff of Orwell’s 1984. Yet in some ways, by living at the White House, she had already seen Orwell’s masterpiece of “fascism perfected” in a way most Americans could never imagine. She”
“When you love someone you got to be prepared to hate too.”
“Farming was a risky proposition under even the best of circumstances. Folks who toiled in the dirt could do everything right and a drought or an early freeze could come and wipe them out.”
“she glimpsed an aging man who had just lost everything and had no idea what he was supposed to be doing with the time he had left to live.”
“Based on my own experience, boys will mess with your heart and girls with your head.”
“thousand yards of this place.” “Who is she?”
“And asking people to take the time to read and actually think about stuff? Heaven forbid.”
“Issues. The dreaded word. It seemed so innocuous. Issues. Everyone had issues.”
“My mom said you always write thank-you letters, and besides, I wanted to.”
“The white men had basically crapped all over the only race that could call itself indigenous in America.”
“While it was true that the president of the United States was the world’s ultimate juggler of tasks, it was also a fact that the First Lady, traditionally, was no slouch in that department either.”
“When you didn’t have much, you tended to keep what you had.”
“engine, picked up the pages, ripped off the rubber band, and”
“You've heard tales of beauty and the beast. How a fair maid falls in love with a monster and sees the beauty of his soul beneath the hideous visage. But you've never heard the tale of the handsome man falling for the monstrous woman and finding joy in her love, because it doesn't happen, not even in a story-teller's tale.”
“The Law, as quoted, lays down a fair conduct of life, and one not easy to follow.”
“Your mortal attachments are like a puppet’s strings," Avari said, both hands clasped casually at his back. "One need only pluck the right cord to make the puppet dance." His smile was almost creepier than his threats. "Dance, reaper!”
“Jacks stood beside her. Instead of saying anything, she felt his fingers trace up her palm and then lace into hers. He had taken her hand
before, quickly and for functional reasons—usually to drag her off to someplace she didn’t want to go—but he had never held her hand. Not the way
couples did in parks or lovers did in old movies. Maddy stood there and felt the heat of his grip. It made her think of that first night in the diner, when
they had talked about pretend memories and she had felt so connected to him.”
“A new legend swept Oregon, from Roseburg all the way north to the Columbia, from the mountains to the sea. It traveled by letter and by word of mouth, growing with each telling.
It was a sadder story than the two that had come before it--those speaking of a wise, benevolent machine and of a reborn nation. It was more disturbing than those. And yet this new fable had one important element its predecessors lacked.
It was true.
The story told of a band of forty women--crazy women, many contended--who had shared among themselves a secret vow; to do anything and everything to end a terrible war, and end it before all the good men died trying to save them.
They acted out of love, some explained. Others said they did it for their country.
There was even a rumor that the women had looked on their odyssey to Hell as a form of penance, in order to make up for some past failing of womankind.
Interpretations varied, but the overall moral was always the same, whether spread by word of mouth or by U.S. Mail. From hamlet to village to farmstead, mothers and daughter and wives read the letters and listened to the words--and passed them on.”
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