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Iggy. This is not a democracy, I said,(...)It's a Maxocracy.

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
Iggy
Democracy

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She didn't flirt with him, but they hung out together a lot, and every time I saw their heads bent over a computer screen or map, it made my stomach clench. And my teeth. And my fists.
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Then I went to bed and cried into my pillow. I wasn't sad, not at all. It was just so beautiful to have an intense feeling and the right words at the same time. What are we but our stories?
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Am I tough? Am I strong? Am I hard-core? Absolutely. Did I whimper with pathetic delight when I sank my teeth into my hot fried-chicken sandwich? You betcha.
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It’s wherever you are. If it’s tapped into any of your senses, it knows where you are and what you’re doing.” Oh no, I thought, my spirits sinking. I hadn’t considered that. Did that mean nothing I did was ever anymore? “Even in the bathroom?” the Gasman’s eyes widened with surprise.
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Everything I loved was taken away from me, and I did not die.
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What are you guys doing? If you anted me to take a shower, all you had to do was pay me ten bucks, like you usually do
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You're lying through your fangs, Iggy accused. Fang tried to play innocent--but innocent Fang is an oxymoron, so it didn't work.
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You're just here for the ride. For the incredible, indescribable Maximum Ride. --Max's Voice
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I’m not comfortable in this stadium,” I explained, trying to look calm. “I know. And you hate Fang looking at those girls. But we’re still having fun, and Fang still loves you, and you’ll still save the world. Okay?
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Nudge threw her arms around my neck. 'I love you Max! I love all of us too!' Yeah, me too,' Said the Gasman. 'I don't care if we have our house, or a cliff ledge, or a cardboard box. Home is wherever we all are, together.
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I'm big on having a blistering pace. That's one of the hallmarks of what I do, and that's not easy. I never blow up cars and things like that, so it's something else that keeps the suspense flowing. I try not to write a chapter that isn't going to turn on the movie projector in your head.
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Tell me again what we're doing here, I said, running a continuous scan of our surroundings. Fang popped some Cracker Jack into his mouth. We're here to watch manly men do manly things. I followed Fang's line of sight: He was watching the Dallas Cowboys Cheerleaders, who were not doing manly things, by any stretch of the imagination.
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I muttered a swear word to myself. After I heard Angel cussing like a sailor when she stubbed her toe, my new resolution was to watch my language. All I needed was a six-year-old mutant with a potty mouth
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Do you know how fast you were going? Fang looked at the speedometer...No, he said truthfully. I tagged you at seventy miles per hour,she said, pulling out a clipboard. I let out an impressed whistle. Excellent! I never thought we'd be that fast. Fang shot me a look and I put my hand over my mouth.
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Hollywood is a peculiar beast - people in Hollywood are nuts.
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We went back to the weird Institute building. At night there was a lot more activity. Erasers coming in non-stop. Nice cars, nice clothes, nice smug faces (that I wanted to smash!). -Fang's Blog
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I feel like I'm going to HURL. Which, even if I wanted to do, I couldn't do, because I haven't eaten. I can't even drag myself out of my room. And while I'd be able to muster the strength to roundhouse Fang until he begged for MERCY, I'de be mush around an Eraser.
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