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Kindle Notes & Highlights
“Beans, beans, the musical fruit,” the raven recited, inspired. “The more you eat, the more you toot.”
He is too young to have learned to hate himself yet, but that seed is already there; given time, it will grow, and bear bitter fruit.
His father smiled thinly. “Perhaps not for a while. But in the end, someone always has to have his or her neck popped, as you so quaintly put it. The people demand it. Sooner or later, if there isn’t a turncoat, the people make one.”
