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By AnonymBrunonia Barry
A beautifully written tale that lives somewhere between landscape and memory, where regret becomes a prison, and a story told often enough becomes truth.
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By AnonymBrunonia Barry
I'll pit my God against your god any day, I say to the Calvinists. It's not their god I'm praying to.... The God I'm praying to is neither male nor female. My God is the one who exists apart from all of men's agendas, the God who takes you away when there is no possible place you can go.
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By AnonymBrunonia Barry
Sometimes, when you look back, you can point to a time when your world shifts and heads in another direction. In lace reading this is called the “still point.
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By AnonymBrunonia Barry
The Language of Sand has something for everyone: myths, mystery, community, humor, grief, and ultimately healing. I found myself not only rooting for Abigail but for the whole community of Chapel Isle. Block manages to hold sass and heartfelt emotion in perfect equilibrium.
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By AnonymBrunonia Barry
There is lace in every living thing: the bare branches of winter, the patterns of clouds, the surface of water as it ripples in the breeze.... Even a wild dog's matted fur shows a lacy pattern if you look at it closely enough.
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By AnonymBrunonia Barry
There is no wrong answer. Even so, it is easy to receive wrong results, simply by asking the wrong question.
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By AnonymBrunonia Barry
I am a cypher...I carry no weight, no worth, no influence. I represent nothing. I do not exist.
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By AnonymBrunonia Barry
... once you start demonizing groups of people, when you make them the other, you can justify doing just about anything you want to the, can't you? Look at history if you don't believe me.
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By AnonymBrunonia Barry
Tell me what you want, and I'll tell you who you think you are. Tell me what you fear, and I'll tell you who you really are.
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By AnonymBrunonia Barry
We all find means of anesthesia.
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By AnonymBrunonia Barry
You know who you are. You have always been other.
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