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You lit into me last night. You said what I did was stupid. - That's what my head said. But my heart... My stupid heart... Her voice broke. It was singing.
Susan Elizabeth Phillips
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Susan Elizabeth Phillips
Age: 75
Born: 1948
Born: December 11
Novelist
Writer
Cincinnati
Ohio
Stupid
Head
Lasts
Last
Voice
Night
Lit
Heart
Broke
Singing
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I guess we're oil and water. (Phoebe) I'd say we're more like gasoline and a blowtorch. (Dan)
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Make-up? What happened? You look almost female. Thanks. You look almost straight.
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Phoebe tapped the toe of her sneaker against the dock. “There’s only one good use for a man like Heath Champion.” “Here we go again,” Molly muttered. Phoebe’s lip curled. “Target practice.
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This is America. We’re entitled to our opinions.” “Wrong. This is Texas. And my opinion is the only one that counts.
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Celebrate the success of others. High tide floats all ships.
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I married a damned cereal killer
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If you think I'm going to cry all over your chest because you don't feel the same way, you're wrong. I don't beg for anybody's love.
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You know that we've got a few problems we need to talk through before we get married. I'm not getting rid of Pooh. See, there you go being antagonistic. Marriage means learning to compromise. I didn't say I wouldn't compromise. I promise to take the ribbon out of her topknot before you walk her.
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His pacing stopped. The mattress sighed as he sat on the edge. seconds ticked by before he spoke so softly she could barely hear. Sometimes I want to leave this town so bad I can taste it.
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There’s no accounting for the mysteries of the human heart
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There was something about a man with a shovel, and the sweat on his neck might as well have been chocolate sauce. It wasn't fair. Brains and brawns should be two separate categories, not bundled into one irresistible package. She needed to pull herself together before she went after him with a spoon. But where to start?
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Before you lost your mind, how did you make a living? I was a hitman for the Mafia. Are you done crying yet? I wasn't crying! And I wish you were a hitman because, if I had money, I'd hire you right this minute to knock yourself off.
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Be the best at what you're good at
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Did anybody tell you that you're a few french fries short of a Happy Meal?
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ignore the pain, play through it.
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Ironic, isn't it, what religion does to people? I guess it's more ironic what people do to religion.
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Just out of curiosity, sweetheart did you ever talk to your doctor about givin' you some tranquilizers?
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Meg! I love you! I want to marry you! That's weird, she said without stopping. Only six weeks ago, you were telling me all about how Lucy broke your heart. I was wrong. Lucy broke my brain.
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So, Beav, tell me about yourself. I'm Blue. Sweetheart, if I had your dubious taste in men, I wouldn't be too happy, either. My name is Blue. Blue Bailey.
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Now, now. Southern ladies don’t French-kiss and tell.
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