She slammed the book closed, ran to her bed, gathered her stuffed animals up in her arms, started chewing on her blanket, and cried for a while, considering the question of trolls.

I thought of the priest who'd told me that many religions hold that it is easier to be closely connected to people we love after death than before.

Asking a man if he could be trusted was like asking an unwed girl if she was a virgin. The question mattered, but the asking of it was gross insult.

There is no overacting, only untrue acting.

Written By Stellan Skarsgard

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