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— Lucy Christopher"You looked at me, your eyes huge. You we're like a dog then, waiting for me to throw you a bone . . . waiting for something I could never give you."
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Then I went to the morgue and saw that those bones weren't yours, heard your voice again in my head" -his eyes closed- "and once more, nothing else mattered.
— Jeaniene Frost
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And I am a writer, writer of fictions I am the heart that you call home And I've written pages upon pages Trying to rid you from my bones.
— Colin Meloy
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