had stood there silently, watching, without interest or purpose, like a chemical compound on a photographic plate, absorbing visual shapes because they were there to be absorbed, but unable ever to form any estimate of the objects of her vision.

When they get done sending you to Parchman you'll have plenty of time between working cotton and corn you aint going to get no third and fourth of even, to study it." They looked at one another. "Yes sir," George said. 'Especially wid you there to help me worry hit out.

Juan Diego lived there, in the past—reliving, in his imagination, the losses that had marked him.

He who makes a beast of himself gets rid of the pain of being a man. —Samuel Johnson

Written By Michael Lewis

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