Cherie Priest
American novelist.
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He’s not the first man I'd like to kill down here, but I was willing to work him onto the list.
Her lack of interest might have been interpreted as a lack of caring, but it was only a side effect of permanent exhaustion.
“What was it like?” Zeke asked, changing the subject as much as he was willing to. “Fighting in the war, I mean?”
He grumbled, “It was war, you dumb kid. Everybody I liked got killed, and most of the folks I'd just as soon have shot made it out with medals on their chests. It wasn’t fair and it sure as hell wasn’t any fun. And Jesus knows it’s been going on way too long.”
You're a smart boy. Or if you're not, you ought to be.
Sometimes, everyone is right. Not always and not even usually, but once in a while, everyone is right.
“You're an idiot,” Lucy said. “Just ’cause you don’t understand them don’t mean they’re out to get you.”
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