Ant Prune was holding one of the squirrels in her hand. ‘And once a day, we have ta clean their little private parts with… — Margaret Stohl Copy Share Image
She yanked my plate away and took it to the sink. She rinsed some bones that looked like pork shoulder, which was weird since… — Margaret Stohl Copy Share Image
For me a book has always been a chance to reach out and connect to someone and not be alone. — Margaret Stohl Copy Share Image
“ROMANOFF: A gun might as well shoot both ways at once, sir. You want to take out the person in the crosshairs? You have… — Margaret Stohl Copy Share Image
“Furo Costas. The Rager. You, my friend, are an imbecile. You could have killed me twenty times, on the Tracks. I'm surprised you're not… — Margaret Stohl Copy Share Image
“...Only then will I teach you how to take a life—how and when and where.” “And why?” Natasha had asked. She had been young,… — Margaret Stohl Copy Share Image
“And what do I know about humans? Only this: My name is Doloria Maria de la Cruz, and I'm not just the end of… — Margaret Stohl Copy Share Image
All that destiny garbage. Nobody can decide what happens to you. Nobody but you. — Margaret Stohl Copy Share Image
Aunt Mercy put down her tiles, one at a time. I-T-C-H-I-N. Aunt Grace leaned closer to the board, squinting. "Mercy Lynne, you're cheatin' again! What kinda word is that? Use it in a sentence." "I'm itchin' ta have some a that white cake." "That's not how you spell it." At least one of them could spell. Aunt Grace pulled one… — Margaret Stohl Copy Share
