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Quote by Jane Flett

“To admit you want. It’s very dangerous to live in a small town and want. It’s like building a garden of tiny flowers on a racecourse. Stick a head too high and be tramped to dirt.”

Quote by Jane Flett

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Freakslaw

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Jane Flett

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“Before I could let myself drift too far into that feeling, the brittle hiss of small-town gossip floated from a couple tables over. 'Did you hear what that man said? Something about selling?' 'I did. And if Honey is back to sell Bea's place after all this time...well, that is a damn shame. I know Bea would be rolling over in her grave if she could hear it.' 'She's an outsider now, anyway. Barely ever came back. I doubt she cares about this place the way Bea did.' My spine went tight before I started wiping at the same clean table, pretending I was too focused to hear them. It wasn't fair. They didn't know her. They didn't see the way Honey had teared up last night when she looked over pictures from Bea's closet. They never heard the way she'd whispered Bea's name like it hurt. They didn't see her truly trying to find her place in a town she barely remembered but still carried inside her like a bruise. Sometimes, small towns rarely cared about truth. They cared about narrative. And once a narrative caught fire, it was almost impossible to put out.”

“I was too smart and that made people uncomfortable--most folks where we've lived our whole lives don't trust too much intelligence in a woman. There is also the problem of my eyes--they don't hide anything. If I don't care for a person, my eyes make it plain. I don't care for most. Folks are generally comfortable with the small lies they tell each other. They don't know what to do with someone like me, who mostly doesn't bother with small lies.”

“The town draws a veil over certain events. This is a small community where everyone knows that sometimes the contract to forget is as important as any promise to remember. Children can grow up having no knowledge of the indiscretion of their father in his youth or the illegitimate sibling who lives fifty miles away and bears another man’s name. History is that which is agreed upon by mutual consent. That’s how life goes on; protected by the silence that anaesthetises shame.”