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T Quotes

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All T Quotes

“That’s the way I’ve always been. It’s hard for me to see any situation as a whole. I feel like I’m always looking at a mass of moving parts, trying to break every tiny piece of experience down and understand it in a methodical way. It’s beautiful but it’s also difficult to interact with people because they expect me to communicate the whole machine and I’m too distracted by the cogs.”

“That's the way with anything worth doing, isn't it? You work and work, and there's always a risk of whether it's enough or not, of whether any of this is going to make a difference or if it's just months sunk into another hopeless case. But you do the work. Because it's what you can do. Because you may never know if it means anything, but on the chance that it does, you can't live with yourself if you don't try, can you?”

“That's too bad, Anneliese, the house is really spectacular. Anneke is a true talent." "It will be a new standard-bearer for the neighborhood," Caroline says. "I have no doubt," my mother says in a way that implies the opposite. And I? Snap. "You have every doubt, although I can't imagine why. Exactly what did you want from me, except for me not to exist? I'm sorry I'm such a disappointment, but for the love of god, why on earth did you even come here? Surely with all your experience over these many years and many husbands, you have figured out how to avoid me, why did you come this time? Why did you not just tell Alan I wasn't going to be in town and save us all the fucking painful charade?" Hedy reaches out and holds my hand, giving it a squeeze in a way that clearly says, "You go, girl." And not, "You might want to shut up now." "This is why I avoided coming here, to face your accusations. You never wanted me, Anneke, not from the moment you were born. You wouldn't take the breast; I had to bottle-feed you from day one. You never wanted to be near me, always running off, playing by yourself, going into other rooms when I came near. When I would travel, never a card or a letter. Never once did you ever tell me you missed me when I called or when I returned. I did the best I could, Anneke, but it was never good enough." And then I start to laugh. Because the whole thing is so ridiculous. "I didn't take the BREAST? You're mad at me because I didn't SUCKLE? You didn't travel, Anneliese, you LEFT. For months and years on end. You left me with your bitter, judgmental mother to go off with an endless string of men, and always made clear how uncomfortable you were on your rare visits home. Even when you married Joe and we were together for those three years, you weren't really there, were you? Not like a real mother. Do you know why I may never have kids of my own? Not because I can't or don't want to, but because I'm so afraid of being like you. Of being another in a long line of self-absorbed, cold, aloof bitches who are incapable of providing a loving home. And I will never forgive you for that. For making me think I shouldn't be a mother. But you know what? I'm beyond it. I'm beyond needing your approval or validation. So let me be clear about something, Mommy. Take whatever you need from this evening, because it is the last time you are welcome in my life. Fuck you." "Hear, hear," Hedy says under her breath.”

“That's total mech waste. I'm glad I trusted my gut and didn't hand this thing over to the Order. I'm glad I sat with this commonplace for so many units. I'm not sure if I've ever believed in the transmogrification. I'm not too sure if I cared very much about this book at all. But I think if I had handed this book over to the Order, Mr. Smalls and his cronies would have burned this book. Even if I am not sure about the transmogrification of the data I can see now so many units later so much of Pop and Mabel’s cryptz in here. I think it's true what they say about youth thinking they’ve got it all figured out. I'm glad I attempted as hard as I could to stave off rigidity. So many of my fellow etceterists found their little box, climbed inside, had the box taped shut from the outside with the help of peer reinforcement, taped it from the inside too, parceled themselves off, and lost themselves in the realm of the archival sublime.”

“that’s tragic. he was such a happy kid.” showered cold to make his pants fit would rather stand up straight than sit didn’t cry when his parents split he was such a happy kid now their words are what’s killing him taking pills, hoping they will stick his grades have dropped his friends are gone paints his nails and dyes his hair parents says it’s a teenage fit ’cause he is such a happy kid how come you tell me who to be ”aim big thats all you’ll need” money is what drives the world ”become a lawyer thats your true worth” i won’t try to fit your needs i am not who you think because i’m not a happy kid”

“That's twice you've played your little lord-of-the-manor card." I grin, having fun. "What was the promise? Oh, right. The third time I do so, you make a jerk-off gesture?" Delilah sets a hip against the back of North's chair as she faces me. I don't like the proximity of her butt to his head. At all. But she's smirking at me with those pouty lips. "Let me save you the trouble." With her free hand, she makes a loose fist and pumps it. The gesture is expected, but not the bolt of heat that punches through my gut and goes straight to my cock. Fuck. I can practically feel her hand on my swollen flesh, the tug she'd give me. Biting back an internal groan, I give her a lazy smile. "Looks like you've had some practice with that, Tot." Practice some more. I'm here all week, willing victim. She doesn't blink. "I'm multitalented, Con Man." "I just bet you are." My dick is rapidly rising, getting heavy in my pants. Hell. Calm yourself, Saint. The request is easier said than done. She's locked eyes with me, unwilling to back down. And she has no idea what she's stirring up. It isn't anger I'm feeling. I'm in so much trouble.”

“That’s very trusting.” Iris watches Anke search our backpacks. “We’re saving people’s lives. We thought we could be,”Anke says. I’m more fixated on her arm in my backpack than on what she’s saying, though. That bag is nearly empty, but it’s mine. She’s messing it up. Her hands might not even be clean. When she does stop, I immediately wish she hadn’t. “Denise,” she says, “I need to search your bed next.” My gaze flicks to my pillow. “I. I. Could I.” “She doesn’t like people touching her bed.” Iris stands, guarding me. “You’re touching it,” Captain Van Zand’s brother says. Iris shoots him a withering look. “I sat at the foot, which is the only place that’s OK for even me to touch, and I’m her sister.” Anke’s sigh sounds closer to a hiss. “Look, we have more rooms to search.” I squirm. No. Not squirm. I’m rocking. Back and forth. “Wait,” I say. “You can’t—” Iris goes on. “Just ’cause she’s too precious to—” the man argues. “Wait,” I repeat, softer this time, so soft that I’m not even sure Iris hears it. “Can I, can I just, wait. I can lift the sheets and mattress myself. You can look. Right? Is that good? Right? Is that good? If I lift them?” I force my jaw shut. No one says anything for several moments. I can’t tell if Anke is thinking of a counterargument or if she really is trying to make this work. Her lips tighten. “OK. If you listen to my instructions exactly.” “You’re indulging her?” Captain Van Zand’s brother says. “She’s just being difficult. Have you ever seen an autistic kid? Trust me, they’re not the kind to take water scooters into the city like she did.” “Denise, just get it done,” Anke snaps. I don’t stand until they’re far enough away from the bed, as if they might jump at me and touch the bed themselves regardless. I blink away tears. It’s dumb, I know that—I’m treating Anke’s hands like some kind of nuclear hazard—but this is my space, mine, and too little is left that’s mine as is. I can’t even face Iris. With the way she tried to help, it feels as though I’m betraying her by offering this solution myself. I keep my head low and follow Anke’s orders one-handed. Take off both the satin and regular pillowcases, show her the pillow, shake it (although I tell her she can feel the pillow herself: that’s OK, since the pillowcases will cover it again anyway)—lift the sheets, shake them, lift the mattress long enough for her to shine her light underneath, let her feel the mattress (which is OK, too, since she’s just touching it from the bottom) . . . They tell us to stay in our room for another hour. I wash my hands, straighten the sheets, wash my hands again, and wrap the pillow in its cases. “That was a good solution,” Iris says. “Sorry,” I mutter. “For what?” Being difficult. Not letting her help me. I keep my eyes on the sheets as I make the bed and let out a small laugh.”

“That's what a secret is. It's a confession in disguise. Well, sort of. The whole power of a secret is in the keeping - the power of knowing something that nobody else does. But the whole point of confession is letting go. You're supposed to feel better afterward. Like the weight has been lifted and your soul is suddenly free to fly or whatever. But what if it isn't? What if, after telling someone, you feel just as bad as you did before, except now everybody else knows? And you can see it in their eyes as you walk down the hall? Your secrets staring right back at you? Wasn't it better, sometimes, to not say anything at all?”