Sona Trinks

“If fate doesn't make you laugh, you just don't get the joke.”
― Gregory David Roberts

“The person in the ski mask, gloves, and all-dark clothing hunched forward to bring his truck engine to life. His lookout a mile north had signaled the target car was on the way. Nobody could have spotted him in the hide spot near the highway. He’d been there throughout the darkness of the night. Since the sun began its climb, he’d been enshrouded in the smoke. And with all the hissing and booming the fire was causing, what he was about to do wouldn’t be heard, either. Conditions couldn’t have been staged any better.”
― John M Vermillion, Packfire

“Now, tell me, my dear, I said, what are you crying about?

About the years that are gone, Mr. Betteredge," says Rosanna quietly. My past life still comes back to me sometimes.

Come, come, my girl, I said, your past life is all sponged out. Why can't you forget it?

"She took me by one of the lappets of my coat. I am a slovenly old man, and a good deal of my meat and drink gets splashed about on my clothes. Sometimes one of the women, and sometimes another, cleans me of my grease. The day before, Roseanna had taken out a spot for me on the lappet of my coat, with a new composition, warranted to remove anything. The grease was gone, but there was a little dull place left on the nap of the cloth where the grease had been. The girl pointed to that place, and shook here head.

The stain is taken off, she said. But the place shows, Mr. Betteredge--the place shows!”
― Wilkie Collins, The Moonstone

“I did not know whether I would ever speak to her or not or, if I spoke to her, how I could tell her of my confused adoration. But my body was like a harp and her words and gestures were like fingers running upon the wires.”
― James Joyce, Dubliners