“I ain't the kind o' person who turns up her nose at what's served her, just cause it ain't something else. I ate what the Almighty served me, and filled it up just fine. Eat what you're served, child, and season it any way you like. You do that and you'll get along all right.”

Melissa Wiley

Melissa Wiley - “I ain't the kind o' person who turns up...” 1

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“What you learn today?" I ask even though she ain't in real school, just the pretend kind. Other day, when I ask her, she say, "Pilgrims. They came over and nothing would grow so they ate the Indians."Now knew them Pilgrims didn't eat no Indians. But that ain't the point.”

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“ 'Sugar, aint you ever had no good time?' she said with a bit of sadness in her voice. 'What you mean?' Sugar said,...'Seems to me that I ain't never see you look up from whatever you were doing and just smile.''Just smile? Smile at what? At who?''Smile into the air, girl!' she said and waved her arm through the air....you better start, 'cause time is running and a life without good times ain't a life worth having.”

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“If you can't get what you want, you end up doing something else, just to get some relief. Just to keep from going crazy. Because when you're sad enough, you look for ways to fill you up.”

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“Start ringing things up then. This won't take long.""Which ones?""I don't care." I push some at her. "These.""These?" She looked dubious."Why not these?"She glanced at Ray. "'Cause if that's your man, I'd say you can leave these off.""Oh, no, you didn't." Ray said."What's this shit?" Ray demanded, looking at the saleclerk."Honey, truth hurts, but ain't no way you're a Magnum.""Well, I ain't no medium!"The clerk smiled. "Yeah, but I was being generous.""What are you doing?" The clerk demanded as Ray grabbed another box. "I ain't rung those up yet."Ray pulled out a foil package and tossed the box back on the counter. "So ring it up."She arched an eyebrow, but didn't bother, maybe because she was watching him unbutton his fly. I caught his wrist. "What are you doing?""Proving a point.""Not in the middle of the store, you're not.""Ain't nobody here," the cashier reminded me. "And ain't no way he's filling that thing out.”

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“Everyone always knows what they're doing," he says abruptly, still not looking up from his hands, the little plastic pot and the old tattoo and the new white dressing on his left wrist. "You know what you're doing, you got your work and your friends and everything and miserable headfucky little teenage girly boys think you're amazing and, I don't know, you might've saved my life, who knows? I might be dead if it weren't for you and Olly but people can't keep looking after me all the time cos that ain't healthy neither, that's just as bad as people not giving a fuck at all. And, like... I'm trying to sort my head out and be a proper grown-up and get my degree and go to work and look after them kids and make sure my dad ain't kicking my sister round the house like a football but it's just so hard all the time, and I know I ain't got no right to complain cos that's just life, ain't it? Everyone's the same, least I ain't got money worries or nothing. I just don't know what I'm doing, everything's too hard. I can try and try forever but I can't be good enough for no one so what the fuck's the point?”

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