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Quote by Jeffrey Fry

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Distilled Thoughts

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Jeffrey Fry

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“The National Institute of Standards and Technology has provided a preliminary estimation that between 16,400 and 18,800 civilians were in the WTC complex as of 8:46 am on September 11. At most 2,152 individual died in the WTC complex who were not 1) fire or police first responders, 2) security or fire safety personnel of the WTC or individual companies, 3) volunteer civilians who ran to the WTC after the planes' impact to help others or, 4) on the two planes that crashed into the Twin Towers. Out of this total number of fatalities, we can account for the workplace location of 2,052 individuals, or 95.35 percent. Of this number, 1,942 or 94.64 percent either worked or were supposed to attend a meeting at or above the respective impact zones of the Twin Towers; only 110, or 5.36 percent of those who died, worked below the impact zone. While a given person's office location at the WTC does not definitively indicate where that individual died that morning or whether he or she could have evacuated, these data strongly suggest that the evacuation was a success for civilians below the impact zone.”

“I could have hired someone else. Someone less flawed, perhaps, or at least better at hiding it. But none of them would have had the talent you have with flowers, Victoria. It's truly a gift. When you work with flowers, everything about you changes. The set of your jaw loosens. Your eyes glaze with focus. Your fingers manipulate the flowers with a gentle respect that makes it impossible to believe you are capable of violence. I'll never forget the first day I saw it. Watching you arranging sunflowers at the back table, I felt like I was looking at a completely different girl." I knew the girl of whom she was speaking. It was the same one I'd glimpsed in the dressing room mirror with Elizabeth, after nearly a year in her home. Perhaps that girl had survived somewhere within me after all, preserved like a dried flower, fragile and sweet.”

“Flowers, you who end in close affinity to the arrangers’ hands (Hands of girls then, hands of girls now), You who cover the garden table from end to end, Grown weak, gently injured, Waiting for water which revives you once more From a death already commenced - and now Again taken up between the opposing, sorting Fingers and their feeling of you, and which can so well Show you favour, give ease more than you had imagined, As you recover yourselves in a jug, Cooling slowly, and the ardour of the girls like confessions Given up by you, seeping forth like muddy and tiresome sins You committed by being plucked, - these are another tie between you, So joined in alliance by both your blossomings.”