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It's just the end of some things. And the beginning of others.
Lisa McMann
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Lisa McMann
Age: 56
Born: 1968
Born: February 27
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Holland
Michigan
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Ends
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Beginning
More quotes by Lisa McMann
Janie calls Cabel. Hi, uh, Mom, she says. Cabel snorts. Hello, dear. Did you make it through the blizzard? Yeah. Barely. Janie grins into the phone.
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With practice, you will master your own dreams.
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Feels like I'm in a play and I don't know all my lines.
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The phone rings. “Asshole,” she mutters. She picks it up. “Will you let me explain?” “No.” She hangs up.
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You're asking for trouble, Hannagan, he growls. And you would be....? Janie asks. She giggles. Trouble.
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Because there's no way on earth she's going to make it through college unless she grows some serious ovaries and turns this train wreck around
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It's the intent, not the word, that makes something harsh.
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The Thickety is a sinister, magical debut with a marvelous and shocking heroine. J.A. White’s elegant writing and masterful plot kept me turning pages late into the night.
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Hippie said he couldn't stay. Be back tomorrow -Love,Mom
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I lurve you, circus freak, Cabel says. It almost hurts to hear him say that. I lurve you, too, you big lumpy monster man, Janie says. That hurts even more to say.
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No rash decisions. No big commitments. Each day as it comes.
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Janie blinks and leans against the wall, just in case. But it's no one's dream. It's just the end of some things. And the beginning of others.
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Cabel gives her a quizzical look. I am totally not getting enough attention here.
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The thought of being with Shay Wilder makes me want to gouge my eyes out with a butter knife
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If you believe you can read you can
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Dreams happen in the strangest places. Watch for them.
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So, what are you doing tonight? Me? Janie laughs. Homework, of course. You want company? Carrie's looking wistful. Do you have homework to do? Of course. WEther I do it or not is the real question.
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Dreams aren't memories, he says.
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Do you still love me, Janie?' Janie stares at him, incredulous. 'Yes, of course! I don't say it lightly.' 'Say it lightly in my ear,' he demands. She smiles, rests her soft cheek on his scratchy one, and whispers it. 'I love you, Cabe.
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Jacian Obregon. It sounds like a melody. Or a tragedy.
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