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Book cover for The Kind Worth Saving (Henry Kimball/Lily Kintner, #2)
He must have turned on his car’s engine because he powered his window halfway down and I could hear music coming from inside. I couldn’t be a hundred percent sure, but it sounded like “Lyin’ Eyes” by the Eagles, which was way too on the ...more
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Sam Pink
“I don't know if I should judge myself based on what I can accept or what I can't accept but I do know that I always dislike where I am and then look back on where I was with sadness because it is gone.
(That's means I am worthless and it's my fault.”
Sam Pink, Person

Sam Pink
“There should be a word for what happens when you begin to ruin a feeling by saying it.”
Sam Pink, Person

Sam Pink
“It seems I keep track of opportunities I will never have more than focusing on ones I do have and could have.”
Sam Pink, Person

Sam Pink
“I imagine a man coming out of an alley and stabbing me a number of times until I die. Face-down, mouth-open in the snow. What would that change about me. Would I love it. Would I think that the stabbing was painful and that I didn’t like it. Does it actually hurt or is it great. I see my killer being given a wreath and a box of candy by the mayor of Chicago at some kind of ceremony (a ceremony for killing me, you see). And people are cheering for him. I see myself stab-holed and crawling out of an alley to join the periphery of the celebration. Then I hold one hand over the stab wounds and with the other hand I give the thumbs-up sign to my killer as he accepts the wreath from the mayor. I pass more people who are out walking. I’m on Ashland Avenue. A lot of times when I encounter someone else out walking or running past me, it feels like we should be more united than we end up acting. We’re both outside at the same time together. Why doesn’t that mean anything to anyone. Goddamn. No, I don’t think I actually care about that. I thought I cared about it just now.”
Sam Pink, Person

Albert Camus
“Mother used to say that however miserable one is, there’s always something to be thankful for. And each morning, when the sky brightened and light began to flood my cell, I agreed with her.”
Albert Camus, The Stranger

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