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from her labored attempts to explain things yesterday, he’d probably picked up only one narrow band of the spectrum: that he disappointed her.
expressing himself with a hammer in an empty barn.
his home in the yard.
From colonial times, she said. Protestant settlers noticed this butterfly wore the royal colors of their prince, William of Orange,
The name monarch came from the same old king.
Alcidus Byron.
Raquida,
a forceful woman who supervised all postal affairs on the is...
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Reggie
“That post is brilliant, by the way,” Juliet said.
His life was now at the whim of a livid ecosystem.
here she sat, detached, as if this gigantic miserable husband were not her fault. Just being the fools we are right now, she thought: a condition that inevitably changed, often for the worse. In one transcendent moment buoyed by about two ounces of Riesling she saw the pointlessness of clinging to that life raft, that hooray-we-are-saved conviction of having already come through the stupid parts, to arrive at the current enlightenment. The hard part is letting go, she could see that. There is no life raft; you’re just freaking swimming all the time.
I’m not sure I understand most of this, but it’s very good, I can tell. “Life raft” harks back a paragraph.
it’s not indigenous, Juliet argued. It’s like a cargo cult. Introduced from the outside,
corporate motives via conservative media.
now it’s become fully identified with the icons of local culture, so it’s no l...
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“once you’re talking identity, you can’t just lecture that out of people. The condescension of outsiders won’t diminish it. That just galvanizes it.”
“The rebel flag on mudflaps, science illiteracy. That would be us.”
“Well, yeah,” Juliet said, “that’s kind of the point, that outsiders won’t get it.”
Perfect Females,
A Canadian scientist chased the mystery his whole life, devising a tag that would stick to butterfly wings, recruiting volunteers to help track them, losing the trail many times. And then one winter’s day, as an old man on shaky legs, he climbed a mountain in Michoacán to see what must have looked like his dream of heaven.
That was the day I understood the world is still living.”
this immense sad man in his boxers,
In his sermon Bobby warned against losing gratitude for the miracle of life.

