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Quote by Rick Perlstein

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Rick Perlstein
Rick Perlstein

Rick Perlstein is an American historian born in 1969. Known for his in-depth analysis of American politics and culture, Perlstein's work often focuses on the history and ideas of the United States from the mid-20th century to the modern era. more

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“It was Colomba who had coined the nickname stecchetto, little toothpick, for Livia, because she was so scrawny. She had filled out a little since her sixteenth birthday, but she would never have Colomba's curves. Then she saw Enzo was getting up from his place and coming toward her. She turned away. He did not stop, but as he passed her he whispered, "I was right the first time, when I called you an angel. Because surely only an angel could cook like that." "Save your flattery for whoever wins the beauty contest," she said. But she flushed with pleasure despite herself, and when she saw Colomba Farelli looking at her with daggers in her eyes, it was nice to be able to smile sweetly in return.”

“Na segunda-feira seguinte, na fábrica, todos já sabiam. Marfiza era um diabo-espalha-fatos, que inferno. Quando ouvi o primeiro comentário na fábrica, fiquei com um vermelho-roxo no rosto. Ela jamais seria capaz de enxergar. Se estivesse na minha frente, faria escorrer do pescoço dela. Boca aberta. Futriqueira. Venenosa. Rouba-vida. Mexeriqueira. Língua de escorpião. Maldosa. Ressentida. Vilipendiadora. Sonsa.”

“It's been forever since we watched Friends. Besides, you're the one who made me sit through that show." "Because if it was up to you, we would've watched Bewitched reruns every night." "I Love Lucy," Alisha muttered. "And you say you're not a boomer." "Whatever. You're just bitter my mind is more sophisticated than yours and didn't immediately make the leap year to pop culture when I met Quentin." "Oh, okay." Simone crossed her arms, and the gold cuff on her wrist flashed in the sunlight. "You're gonna stand there and tell me you and your minion Meg haven't been dropping Jurassic Park references since he showed up?" Tongue in her cheek, Alisha scowled. "I hate you so much." "Behold, my sister the meganerd." Cackling, Simone struck a Vanna White pose.”

“Since the picture is supposedly PG..." "How do you even know there is a picture?" "Are you going to share it or leave it to my imagination?" With a petty smirk, Alisha said, "I'll take door number two." "Oh, girl, c'mon." "Nuh-uh, nope. You took the wrong approach." Alisha kept the phone pressed to her chest. "Maybe one day you'll learn: shock and awe can't win every campaign.”

“You always want to blame the person who gets hurt instead of the one who does the hurting. I guess that means you think I knew you when you were hooking up with Harland Henson behind my back?" I let this long-held secret come tumbling out, one of many wounds Bitsy delivered during childhood. "My first boyfriend stolen by my only sister. How much more Jerry Springer does it get? You'd have taken Fisher too, if he had let you. I know all about how you tried to kiss him while I was getting dressed for prom.”

“Bitsy seems unimpressed, even when I describe the big campaign. "You sound like Whitman," she says, slow and monotone. "Work, work, work." I don't react. Instead, I reply by asking about her husband, Whitman Strayer II, a med-school dropout turned venture capitalist who now helps Oxford's elite decide what to do with all their money. "He's fine." She adds nothing more. "Still traveling a lot? Last I heard he was partnering with investors in Atlanta? Birmingham? Dallas? Looking for start-ups." "Yep. As I said, he's fine." She gives me a glance that warns me to back off, so I turn my attention back to the landscape, eager to drink in every gift Mississippi offers. Behind the picnic table, a batch of invasive kudzu has crept in from a steep ravine. With no natural balance to keep it in check, the Asian species now abuses its power, growing thick, leafy webs across everything in reach. Even the trees with the deepest roots have fallen victim to this vicious vine. As Bitsy's words echo, I wonder what lesson the kudzu wants to teach me. Have I, too, done better in foreign soil, opting to go far from the challenging conditions of home? Have I been able to thrive out there in Arizona, living without any real competition? Or am I nothing more than a wayward transplant, an aimless seed taking more than my fair share?”