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I Quotes

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All I Quotes

“I thundered hot water into the big tub, setting up McGee's Handy Home Treatment for Melancholy. A deep hot bath, and a strong cold drink, and a book on the tub rack. Who needs the Megrims? Surely not McGee, not that big brown loose-jointed, wirehaired beach rambler, that lazy fishcatching, girlwatching, grey-eyed iconoclastic hustler. Stay happy, McGee, while you use up the stockpiled cash. Borrow a Junior from Meyer for the sake of coziness. Or get dressed and go over to the next doc, over to the big Wheeler where the Alabama Tiger maintains his permanent floating house party and join the festive pack. Do anything, but stop remembering the way Sam Taggart looks with all the wandering burned out of him. Stop remembering the sly shy way Nicki would walk toward you, across a room. Stop remembering the way Lois died. Get in there and have fun, fella. While there's fun to have. While there's some left. Before they deal you out.”

“I tilt my head toward the ceiling and gasp. Because, somehow, there is no more ceiling. No roof, nothing. It’s the night sky, brilliant with shimmering stars, the rare cloud pale against the darkness, and the full moon that glows so big it feels like I can reach up and brush my fingers against it. Here, by this highway that’s nearly deserted at night, there are so few lights and no cities for miles around so the stars can glow bright. Awe fills my heart, like a breath of clean, pure air.”

“I tilted my chin up a fraction. "You can't f-force me to stay here." I'd only agreed to come this far because I didn't want to stand out in the downpour, for one, and I had high hopes of finding a phone, for two. "That sounded more like a question than a statement," said Patch. "Then ans-s-swer it." His rogue smile crept out. "It's hard to concentrate on answers with you looking like that." I glanced down at Patch's black shirt, wet and clinging to my body. I brushed past him and shut the bathroom door between us.”

“I, to Bennet, represented five pounds ten shillings' worth of goods bought at the market-place, and the buyer wanted, as a business man, to have his money's worth. The man was, of course, within his rights; everybody wants the worth of their money, and who was I, a boy bought for less than a spavined horse, to rail against the little sorrows which Destiny imposed upon me? I was only an article of exchange, something which represented so much amidst the implements and beasts of the farm; but having a hear and a soul I felt the position acutely.”