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“You said just now, "Don't be so ashamed of yourself, because that's the root of your trouble"––with those words, you seem to have reached right into my innermost soul. What I mean is, when I visit people, I always feel that I'm really the lowest of the low, that everybody takes me for a buffoon, so I say to myself, why shouldn't I act the fool, I'm not afraid of what any of you might think, because every single one of you is even worse than me. That's why I'm a buffoon, I'm a buffoon born of shame, great starets, of shame. It's anxiety pure and simple that makes me so unruly.”

“You said, "males are in charge." Males are in charge? No. The people who are in charge are male. But that does not mean males are in charge. You see the difference? I'm not in charge. You're not in charge. We're males, do we go to our Secret Male Meetings where we start figuring out the fate of the fucking world? Do we get to figure this out, do we share power, everyone with a penis gets a say, everyone with a vagina, they're just left out? There was a time when the world was like that, and that was a horrible time, fuck that time. But that time is not now.”

“You said not to fall for you. Did you change your mind?' 'Absolutely not.' His jaw tenses. 'Right.' I don't expect that to hurt as much as it does, which is part of the problem. I'm already too emotionally involved to separate out the sex, no matter how phenomenal it is. 'Here's the thing. I don't think I can separate sex from emotion when it comes to you.' Well, shit, now I've said it. 'We're already too close for that, and if we hook up again, I'm going to eventually fall for you.' My heart pounds at the rushed confession, waiting for his response. 'You won't.' Something akin to panic flares in his eyes, and he crosses his arms. I swear I can actually see the man building his defenses against his own feelings. 'You don't really know me. Not at my core.' And whose fault is that? 'I know enough,' I argue softly. 'And we'd have all the time in the world to figure it out if you'd stop acting like such an emotional chickenshit and just admit that you're going to fall for me, too, if we keep this up.' There's no way he would have designed that saddle, spent all that time training me to fight and fly, if he didn't feel something. He's going to have to fight for this, too, or it will never work. 'I have absolutely no intention of falling for you, Sorrengail.' His eyes narrow and he enunciates every word, like I could possibly take that any other way. Fuck. That. He let me in. He told me about his scars. He had an arsenal crafted for me. He cares. He's just as wrapped up in this as I am, even if he's shitty at showing it. 'Ouch,' I wince. 'Well, it's apparent that you're not ready to admit where this is going. So yeah, I think it's best we agree that this was just a onetime thing.' I force my shoulders to shrug. 'We both needed to blow off some steam, and we did, right?' 'Right,' he agrees, apprehension lining his forehead.”

“You said she has no travel records leaving Italy?" "Yes sir." "So there is a great possibility that she is still here in Italy, isn't?" "Yes sir." "What is 'true love' in Italian?" Secretary Wood showed surprise in his boss' peculiar question that was so not in line with their topic. "Uh...it's 'vero amore', sir." Secretary Wood answered, looking at Cullan as if he already lost his marbles. "Okay. Find my wife as soon as possible, Secretary Wood. I want my vero amore back to me." Cullan said with vindiction.”

“You said that we owe literature almost everything we are and what we have been. If books disappear, history will disappear, and human beings will also disappear. I am sure you are right. Books are not only the arbitrary sum of our dreams, and our memory. They also give us the model of self-transcendence. Some people think of reading only as a kind of escape: an escape from the “real” everyday world to an imaginary world, the world of books. Books are much more. They are a way of being fully human.”

“You said that you thought Queen Orlagh was waiting for an advantage to declare war. Instead, I think she is trying a new ruler—one she hopes she can trick or replace with another indebted to her. She thinks me young and feckless and means to take my measure.” “So what?” I ask. “Our choice is to endure her games, no matter how deadly, or engage in a war we cannot win?” Cardan shakes his head and drinks another cup of tea. “We show her that I am no feckless High King.” “And how do we do that?” I ask. “With great difficulty,” he says. “Since I fear she is right.”

“You said the demon’s signature is faint. I may be able to heal her if she’s been injured.” “Not in your present state, you said.” She scowled at him. “I won’t let you back into my uncle’s home.” “Then I can’t protect you if the Baltimore demon comes for you.” She folded her arms. Hunter’s jaw tightened. “All right. I’ll call you.” He snorted under his breath. “You’re a Kubiteron and I’m a Matusa. That means you’re to obey me.” “You mean, ‘You, Matusa, me, Kubiteron?’ No way, Tarzan. Go beat on your chest before some other lesser demon.” Jared quickly hid a smile. Hunter’s face turned dark. She gave him a quirky smile, then vanished.”

“You said, the other day, you thought we were a deal happier than the King children, for they were fighting and fretting all the time, in spite of their money.’ ‘So I did, Beth. Well, I think we are ; for, though we do have to work, we make fun for ourselves, and are a pretty jolly set, as Jo would say.’ ‘Jo does use such slang words!’ observed Amy, with a reproving look at the long figure stretched on the rug. Jo immediately sat up, put her hands in her pockets, and began to whistle. ‘Don’t, Jo ; it’s so boyish!’ ‘That’s why I do it.’ ‘I detest rude, unladylike girls!’ ‘I hate affected, niminy-piminy chits!”

“You said they were a…religious…?” “Oligarchy,” he finishes. “Ruled by five high priests, who are in turn elected by smaller delegations of regular priests, one for each sub-country. Though the common belief is that each high priest is chosen by God himself.” “God?” Artemisia asks. “They’re monotheistic, yes,” he says. She rolls her eyes. “Just say there’s only one. You aren’t in court, your fancy words don’t impress anyone.”

“You said to your mind, "I want everyone to like me. I don't want anyone to speak badly of me. I want everything I say and do to be acceptable and pleasing to everyone. I don't want anyone to hurt me. I don't want anything to happen that I don't like. And I want everything to happen that I do like." Then you said, "Now mind, figure out how to make every one of these things a reality, even if you have to think about it day and night." And of course your mind said, "I'm on the job, I will work on it constantly.”

“You said we've got a new page. I figure I've got some say in what gets written on it. So I'm going to work on you. Last time around, you threw yourself at me.” “I did no such thing.” “Sure you did. But I can see I've got my work cut out for me this time. That's okay.” He skimmed his thumb over her knuckles before she jerked her hand free. “In fact, I think I'm going to enjoy it.” “I don't know why I waste my time trying to mend fences with you. You're as arrogant as you ever were.” “Just the way you like me, sweetheart.”

“You said you and William became 'officially involved' on December twenty-fourth?" "Yes." "That night, did you and William ever discuss a recent windfall of fifty thousand dollars?" "No." "Did you and William discuss your plans to move in together?" "I said, no." "Did you agree to become officially involved with William even though you both knew another woman still considered herself his fiancée?" "Yes." "Did you decide to do this because William's financial prospects had suddenly improved by fifty thousand dollars? Enough to live together in the Lakeside Apartments, after his father was dead?" Brenda flinches. Jerry calls out, "Objection! Speculation! Foundation! Assumes facts not in evidence!" The objection is sustained. Udweala rephrases the question. "You said you had financial reasons not to be 'officially involved' with William Chao. Did you become 'officially involved' on the evening of December twenty-fourth, despite the fact that he had not broken off his engagement with his girlfriend, because William now had fifty thousand dollars?" "For God's sake, no." Brenda's voice is sharp. "I told you, he never told me about any fifty thousand. What are you implying here? You want to make me out as some kind of slut? A whore? You want the jury to think that Dagou tried to pay me to move in with him?" Again, James glances at Lynn's juror. Her lips are set, her eyes bright, and James understands that with these blurted questions, Brenda has said exactly what the persecution wanted.”

“You said you didn't love her enough. How did you know in the end that you didn't?" ... "Because when she went away I didn't miss her. Because I could stand having her out of my sight; because I didn't want to touch her every time I saw her; because I didn't have the urge to buy her flowers every time I passed a flower stall; because I didn't look for her around every corner; because she wasn't in my head every time I looked up from a market report; because she didn't make me feel stoned - and didn't make me feel glad I wasn't; she didn't fire up my imagination; she didn't make me forget the gloom of the past, as the song goes. Because she didn't make me almost wish she'd disappear so I could find her.”

“You said you didn't want to get involved with me,that one of us would get hurt and how you couldn't bear it. Well that just isn't good enough..Look what happens to people just living their lives. They get hurt, it's not fair they get hurt but they do, all the time, no matter how careful they are. Somebody can just just come along and hurt them, for no stupid reason.”

“You said you have a soul, you deceived yourself; you said there was life after death, you deceived yourself; you followed the priest, you followed the imam, you followed the rabbi, you ran after the gurus, you always deceived yourself! You betrayed yourself and humanity for not understanding the truth! And what's left in your hand in the end? A fake happiness and perishment!”

“You said you knew the perfect place to run to. A place that was empty of people, and buildings, and far, far away. A place covered in blood-red earth and sleeping life. A place longing to come alive again. It's a place for disappearing, you'd said, a place for getting lost... and for getting found. I'll take you there, you'd said. And I could say that I agreed.”