They say time heals all wounds, but that presumes the source of the grief is finite
Ah, said a voice from the doorway, having your annual ‘everyone thinks Will is a lunatic’ meeting, are you? It’s biannual, said Jem. And no, this is not that meeting.
Trains are great dirty smoky things,” said Will. “You won’t like it.” Tessa was unmoved. “I won’t know if I like it until I try it, will I?” “I’ve never swum naked in the Thames before, but I know I wouldn’t like it.” “But think how entertaining for sightseers,” said Tessa, and she saw Jem duck his head to hide the quick flash of his…
Sometimes, when I have to do something I don’t want to do, I pretend I’m a character from a book. It’s easier to know what they would do.
Remember when you tried to convince me to feed a poultry pie to the mallards in the park to see if you could breed a race of cannibal ducks?” “They ate it too,” Will reminisced. “Bloodthirsty little beasts. Never trust a duck.
If no one cares for you at all, do you even really exist?
There’s plenty of sense in nonsense sometimes, if you wish to look for it.
Are you implying that shreds of my reputation remain intact?” Will demanded with mock horror. “Clearly I have been doing something wrong. Or not something wrong, as the case may be.” He banged on the side of the carriage. “Thomas! We must away at once to the nearest brothel. I seek scandal and low companionship.
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