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Quote by Mary Anna King

“Those words hit me like a truck: real family. They brought me back to a day when I was a kid and I had asked Peggy what the word bastard meant. She told me it mean 'illegitimate, like not real.' It has seemed like a toothless insult. But now I understood where the word had bite: if you are not real, you can be dismissed, erased, forgotten. It means the you don't matter.”

Quote by Mary Anna King

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Bastards: A Memoir

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Mary Anna King

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“DJ, let Trisha look. She's really good at this doctor thing," Ashna said and Trisha Raje grinned at her as though she had just dropped the deepest curtsy in front of her. DJ picked up the colander filled with okra and moved to the fryer. "As I've already mentioned, my hands are fine. I hope yours are still worth as much as they were last evening." Definitely a petty bastard. That made her tilt her head in confusion again. Apparently, you needed no memory at all to get through medical school. Or maybe it was he who needed to have his head examined for remembering every word that had come out of her mouth like some fragile, egotistical half-wit.”

“Father, I thank you for your kindness and beg that you will let me leave your house." As if the Gentle Lord cared about propriety. Father held out an arm. "I will grant that with a glad heart and open hand, my daughter." Certainly the glad part was true enough. He was avenging his dead wife, saving his favorite daughter, and keeping his sister-in-law as his concubine-- and the only price was the daughter he had never wanted.”

“The hot tub girl was the one before the one with the legs, and after the one with the boobs," Dan snorted, weaving slightly on his feet. "And I think he had a couple of models in between from the modeling agency start-up that he was considering adding to his portfolio." "I told you we should have invested in that one," Marco said, making no effort to keep his voice down. "He was swimming in tits and ass." He looked over at Daisy. "Pardon my French." Daisy gave him a cold smile. "Quel salaud!" Liam didn't speak French, but from the look on Daisy's face he suspected what she'd said wasn't polite. "So who is she really?" Dan gave him a nudge, keeping his voice low. "I mean, come on, man. You and her?" "I'm his parole officer." Daisy grabbed Liam's arm and tugged him in the opposite direction. "He's on an escorted day pass. Move aside because I have to have him back in his cell by eleven P.M." Dan's eyes widened. "No shit? What did he do?" "He swam in the wrong hot tub." Daisy fixed Dan with a glare. "Next time, check their ID.”

“Yer uncle said as how it looked a fine beast, and MacFarlane said 'twas a stubborn bastard, and in fact its name is Stubborn Bastard because they got so used to calling it that when it would no' let anyone ride it. Claimed he was thinkin' the beast a waste o' horseflesh and was considerin' killin' him when his daughter, yer lady wife, took an interest in him. He said she tamed it with a few soft words and an apple or two, and the next thing he knew it was following her around the bailey like a dog and letting her ride on him.”

“But Don John merely represents a more general mistrust in the play – he is not its sole source. After all, his is a tiny part (no sniggering at the back): he has only 4 per cent of the play’s lines. He does, however, symbolize something larger than himself. And perhaps this is why he is given the identity of bastard. His own malevolent illegitimacy might be thought a kind of proof that women can – and some do – sleep with men not their husbands. Don John the bastard is himself the very certification to stabilize the play’s paranoia about women’s faithlessness. His status as a bastard thus confirms the play’s worst fears.”