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Quote by Whitney G.

“SUBJECT: NEXT TIME You Jackasses Throw an 'Unofficial' Bonfire ... How about making sure that you won't burn down the grounds in the process?! How about ASKING your neighbors if they'll mind having five hundred students in their streets until three in the morning? I know damn well that this was not a "team" idea and whenever KYLE and GRAYSON want to own up to this shit, I'll reduce the extra five daily miles you all now owe me, to three miles. I'm waiting. --Coach Whitten __________________________ SUBJECT: RE: NEXT TIME You Jackasses Throw an 'Unofficial' Bonfire ... It was me, Coach. Grayson had nothing to do with it this time. He didn't even show up. Speaking of which-- Dude, where were you? I fucked like three girls from the bonfire. You probably could've hooked up with at least five. I don't think I'll need another blowjob for a month after how amazing these were. PS--Are you back at our apartment yet? I need to tell you these stories in person when Coach isn't acting like this shit is a big deal. --Kyle ___________________________ SUBJECT: RE RE: NEXT TIME You Jackasses Throw an 'Unofficial' Bonfire ... Kyle, Meet me in my office at the complex NOW. --Coach Whitten _____________________ SUBJECT: RE: RE: RE: NEXT TIME You Jackasses Throw an 'Unofficial' Bonfire ... I meant to send that last part to just Grayson. Not to you, Coach. Can I come in a few hours? I mean, now that you've read what I said, surely you understand how exhausted I am. Three girls, Coach, THREE. --Kyle ________________________________ SUBJECT: RE: RE: RE: RE: NEXT TIME You Jackasses Throw an 'Unofficial' Bonfire ... Right. Fucking. NOW. --Coach Whitten”

Quote by Whitney G.

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On a Tuesday

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Whitney G.

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“It was a fairy moon. Pearlescent, glowing, and hanging low in the sky---cit was the kind of moon that spelled mischief and delight. Dina stood at the edge of the north field, where the fire was already burning. It had all been arranged by Nour, a kind of witchy wedding gift. Dina inhaled the midnight air, sweet and smoky. Her mother was silhouetted by the fire, loosening her hair from the updo she'd styled it in for the evening. Dina would be like her mother tonight: untamable, wild.”

“It was a fairy moon. Pearlescent, glowing, and hanging low in the sky---it was the kind of moon that spelled mischief and delight. Dina stood at the edge of the north field, where the fire was already burning. It had all been arranged by Nour, a kind of witchy wedding gift. Dina inhaled the midnight air, sweet and smoky. Her mother was silhouetted by the fire, loosening her hair from the updo she'd styled it in for the evening. Dina would be like her mother tonight: untamable, wild.”

“Mr. Lecky never got any farther than the third floor. Not conscious of impossible fatigue, feeling less than his distress of the morning, he was notwithstanding seized by a faintness. This sudden spinning dizzied him. A darkness as impalpable, more discrete, yet blacker than night's, spun out from dancing points to overlapping disks. They were so wide, so close to his eyes, that he could not strike them off. He had only a second given him to see and apprehend. This same second loosened his grip on consciousness. He seemed to let go, hardly struggling. His muscles let go everywhere, too. He had time to hear, like some remote accident, the bang of the shotgun, gone, the smash of glass in at least one flashlight lens. This was the thin segment of the actual second, and Mr. Lecky knew nothing of himself slumping to lie on the stairs with the things he had dropped.”

“Che bello! Silenzio, niente televisione, poche macchine per le strade, casa tiepida. È quasi come l'anno che scrissi la "Storia di Tonle", quando una grande nevicata fece cadere la linea telefonica e quella elettrica. E in casa ero ben fornito di tutto: libri, legna, farina, patate, crauti, carne, vino... Ecco: questo "buiofuori" potrebbe far accendere la "lucedentro". Si può vivere senza tanti artifizi; per anni l'ho provato e con la mente si possono superare e trovare soluzioni che sembrano impossibili.”

“I don't remember things. I black out and I can't remember where I've been or what I've done. Sometimes I wonder if I've done or said terrible things, and I can't remember. And if...if someone tells me something I've done, it doesn't even feel like me. it doesn't feel like it was me who was doing that thing. And it's so hard to feel responsible for something you don't remember. So I never feel bad enough. i feel bad, but the thing that i've done --it's removed from me. It's like it doesn't belong to me.”

“Stirring the pastry cream and putting it in the blast chiller in the island, a total chefly indulgence that I have never once regretted. The house filling with the scent of rich, dark chocolate as the cakes rise in the oven. The treat of the moist trimmings as I even up the layers before spreading the thick custard filling between them. The fudgy frosting smoothed perfectly over the whole thing, and then immediately marred with chocolate cookie crumbs.”