“I have a secret passion for mercy. But justice is what keeps happening to people.”
“We merged our lonelinesses once again, in something less than love but sweeter than self. I didn’t get home to West Los Angeles after all.”
“I’ve spilled all my secrets. How do you make people do it?” “I don’t. People like to talk about what’s hurting them. It takes the edge off the pain sometimes.”
“What did the old man want?” “Your husband’s money, just like everyone else.” “But not you, eh?” Her voice was sardonic. “Not me,” I said. “Money costs too much.”
“daughter?’ ‘She was a beautiful child.’ Mrs Williams’s eyes grew misty with the quasi-maternal feelings of a procuress.”
“That isn’t your real motivation. I know your type. You have a secret passion for justice. Why don’t you admit it?” “I have a secret passion for mercy,” I said. “But justice is what keeps happening to people.”
“I’m sick of always doing the professional thing for prudential reasons.’ I”
“Saudi Arabia, and began having children, Osama bin Laden completed his high school education at the Al-Thager”
“Dans notre monde bien protégé et si moderne, il n'y a plus de fautifs, plus de fautes non plus. Des incursions ruineuses comme celles de Cuba, du Vietnam, de l'Irak et de l'Afghanistan ne sont plus le fait d'un seul responsable. Par un tour de passe-passe bien pensé, notre propagande donne à croire que les gens et les pays que nous attaquons ont provoqué notre agression.”
“I fucking loved him and I hated it. I hated him for making me love him. I hated Kyle for leaving me alone so many nights for so many years. And mostly I just hated myself for doing this to all of us.”
“No. She's perfect. She doesn't fuss, doesn't nag, she trusts me absolutely no matter how dumb I act, and she never, ever holds the past against me. Which, come on, it would be really easy for her to do. On top of it, she's mind-blowing in bed and I can't keep my hands off of her. She's too good to be true, so why would she want to spend the rest of her life with me?”
“I don’t love or hate humans. I respect them. They shape themselves, in a way that we angels do not. They tell lies and sleep around and curse, and they try to define themselves so valiantly. Who am I? they keep asking. Why am I here?”
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