“You have to close some doors, honey, no matter how nice a yard they open out onto.”
“forgiveness was not a one-time act. It was a decision to move on and focus on a person’s good features each time the hurt over what they’ve done crept back up on you.”
“Choosing and then living with the consequences, that’s what deciding really is.” She”
“Forgiveness was not a one-time act. It was decision to move on and focus on a person's good features each time the hurt over what they've done crept back up on you.”
“You don’t reason with a lightning bolt or negotiate with a hurricane,”
“Choosing and then living with the consequences, that’s what deciding really is.”
“Savannah had the power to hold people long after their final sell-by date had been carved into marble. You didn’t need to be a witch, or even a psychic, to see spirits in Savannah—”
“You want to talk about right and wrong, you go to Sunday school. This ain’t about right and wrong. Someone try to hurt you, sure they doin’ wrong. But when they attack you, they are sending energy your way. Strong energy. And that energy belongs to you. You have every right to use it for your own purposes.”
“but it’s too dangerous. I don’t care what Ginny’s reasons were for sharing”
“I'm trying to close the door. I have closed that door. That's why I want to leave," I protested.
"No, honey. That's not deciding, that's running. Just like you did last night when you got scared. Choosing and then living with the consequences, that's what deciding really is.”
“Jilo recognize you. She know who you are. You Mercy Taylor.”
“I tried to call out to them, but instead heard myself saying, "Thank you, I'd love a ride," loud enough for all the ghost hunters to hear.”
“Savannah had the power to hold people long after their final sell-by date had been carved into marble.”
“But when they attack you, they are sending energy your way. Strong energy. And that energy belongs to you. You have every right to use it for your own purposes.”
“It ain’t about fault. This victim you talk about, he accept the intention of the person trying to hurt him. He accept it out of fear. He accept it ’cause he don’t know he don’t have to accept it.”
“All right, you handsome devils, if y’all are here for this evening’s Liar’s Tour of Savannah, then you are at the right place,”
“carrying all these years. “Will Jilo let you stay now that Ginny’s gone?” “Fuck Jilo,” Oliver stated flatly. “And fuck”
“Anyone who truly thought ladies didn’t sweat never spent the summer in Georgia.”
“Someone try to hurt you, sure they doin’ wrong. But when they attack you, they are sending energy your way. Strong energy. And that energy belongs to you. You have every right to use it for your own purposes.”
“Little miss got an itch she need scratched.” With her free hand, Jilo rubbed her crotch and laughed again, the croaking sound scaring an owl from a nearby limb.”
“When it comes right down to it, lies are pretty simple. It’s the truth that’s complicated. It’s like an onion, and there’s always another layer if you keep peeling.”
“God bless everyone who takes private moments to help other people in unseen ways.”
“she decided to watch the leaves on the tree across the way. How many would fall off in such a strong wind? ... She now knew why people made such a fuss about weddings. It was to keep the bride's mind occupied, lest she fall into strange mental chasms.”
“In Dream
Black and enduring separation
I share equally with you.
Why weep? Gove me your hand,
promise me you will come again.
You and I are like high
mountains and we can't move closer.
Just send me word
at midnight sometime through the stars.
1946”
“What do prisoners do? Write, of course; even if they have to use blood as ink, as the Marquis de Sade did. The reasons they write, the exquisitely frustrating restrictions of their autonomy and the fact that no one listens to their cries, are all the reasons that mentally ill people, and even many normal people write. We write to escape our prisons.”
“Or maybe you just have some kind of alligator kink. The water shut off, and Prophet turned his head to see Tom exiting the bathroom naked. Tom stopped short when he noticed Prophet’s stare. He smirked a little and shook his head when Prophet shoved his hands into his pockets in a futile attempt to hide how turned on he was. Looking squarely into Tom’s eyes, Prophet knew what—who—he had a kink for. And the voodoo bastard knew it too. Knew it. Liked it. Used it to his advantage whenever he could. Like now. Because he knows you like it. And”
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