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I can talk to fish! Angel said happily, water dripping off her long, skinny body. Ask one over for dinner, Fang said, joining us.
James Patterson
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James Patterson
Age: 77
Born: 1947
Born: March 22
Actor
Advertising Person
Author
Film Producer
Novelist
Philanthropist
Screenwriter
Television Producer
Newburgh
New York
James Brendan Patterson
James B. Patterson
Dinner
Fang
Angel
Dripping
Asks
Fangs
Talk
Joining
Water
Happily
Body
Skinny
Long
Fish
Fishes
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Actually, I'd already briefed him, early this morning. Since we were up at six. Since, at six, the nurse had been overcome with the overwhelming compulsion to take Fang's temperature right then.
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Call me crazy, but there's just something cheering about seeing huge raptors tear into Eraser flesh.
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Hello, Max, he said quietly, searching my face. How do you feel? Which was a ten on the 'imbecilic question' scale of one to ten. Why, I feel fine, Jeb, I said brightly. How about you? Any nausea? Headache? Yep. And it's standing here talking to me.
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Jane-Sweetie, we've talked about your weight- my mother began. I'm only eight years old, I said. How about I promise to be anorexic later?
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What I'm really addicted to is getting people to understand that if their kids aren't competent readers coming out of middle school, it's really going to be hard for them in high school.
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You could have gotten a car with GPS, Total said helpfully. Yes, I said Or we could have brought along a dog that doesn't talk. I gave Angel a pointed look, and she smiled, well, angelically, at me. Total huffed, offended at me and climbed into her lap.
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Being the leader means you have to make life or death decisions sometimes.
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Time for bed.” I held my fist out. One by one, my flock stacked theirs on top, and then we headed up into the trees to sleep the sleep of the innocent. Well, okay, maybe not so innocent. But the sleep of the much less guilty than others, for sure.
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I was breathless, talking as fast as I could. I was afraid if I stopped talking, even for a second, I’d start sobbing again. “Whoa, there.” Fang smiled and reached up, tracing a hand down the side of my face, winding strands of my hair around his fingers. “Stop talking and let me just tell you how great it is to wake up staring at your face. Okay?
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Why was the blind guy playing with matches, you ask? Because he's good at it. Anything to do with fire, igniting things, exploding things, things with fuses, wicks, accelerants . . . Iggy's your man. It's one of those good/bad things.
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I don't believe in lecturing people. It's much more effective to present reading as a fun, rewarding pastime.
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I think sometimes we give people a lot of credit just because they're writing nice sentences even if it isn't adding up to much.
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Excellent. They were flammable.
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Dr. Martinez: I take it you don't want me to call your parent? Max: Uh, no. Hello, lab? May I speak to the test tube please?
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I'm going to introduce BookShots, which are these under-150-page books that I'm launching, and they're under $5. They just launched in Australia. I already had a ton of content, but now add 50 books a year of content.
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When I write I pretend I'm telling a story to someone in the room and I don't want them to get up until I'm finished.
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They call me, The Sharkalator
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While carefully synchronizing our wings-they almost touched-Fang leaned in,gently put one hand behind my neck and kissed me.It was just about close to heaven i'll ever get,I guess.I closed my eyes,lost in the feeling of flying and kissing and being with the one person in the world I completely ,utterly trusted.
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Please, sit down, Sharon said with another hair toss. I made a mental note to practice doing that in a mirror the next time I saw one. it seemed a useful skill, right up there with roundhouse kicks.
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The weird, weird thing about devastating loss is that life actually goes on. When you're faced with a tragedy, a loss so huge that you have no idea how you can live through it, somehow, the world keeps turning, the seconds keep ticking.
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