Fin’s escape from the island had been physical. Artair had found other means.
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My mother sat me down and told me the story about the boy who cried wolf. It was the first time I had heard it. And she had a talent for embellishment, my mother. She could have been a writer. I didn’t really know what woods were then, because there weren’t any trees where we lived.
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I think my mouth must have been hanging open. Had it been June, I’d have caught flies.
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The trouble with jealous revenge is that while you might inflict hurt on the other party, it does nothing to lessen the effect of the hurt you are feeling yourself. So everyone ends up unhappy. And, of course, once you have adopted a certain attitude, it is hard to change it without losing face.
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“Maybe if he hadn’t devoted so much of his time to his God, he might have had more of it left for living.”

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