People fear anyone who differs from what is considered normal, and in a small town the idea of normal can be as narrow as the streets.

Actually, I came because I have a last-minute invitation. My friend Erika Gill is having a big party tomorrow night, one of those all-out birthday bashes that girls like. Want to go?"----------------------------------------"No. Sorry.""Since it's a catered thing, at a restaurant, I'll pick you up at- what did you say?""I'm sorry. I can't do it."----------------------------------------"You're busy?""I just can't do it," I said.

Good dog! Nice fetch!""He wasn't fetching.""Bring her here, boy. Good job!"The dog looked from Zack to me."I've been training him," Zack said. "Up till now he's brought home only dead rabbits, but I guess he's finally getting the hang of it.

Murderer!" he said suddenly in a quiet but clear and distinct voice.Raskolnikov went on walking beside him. His legs felt suddenly weak, a cold shiver ran down his spine, and his heart seemed to stand still for a moment, then suddenly began throbbing as though it were set free. So they walked for about a hundred paces, side by side in silence. The man did not look at him."What do you mean... what is... Who is a murderer?" muttered Raskolnikov hardly audibly."You are a murderer," the man answered still more articulately and emphatically, with a smile of triumphant hatred, and again he looked straight into Raskolnikov’s pale face and stricken eyes.

Life's a book filled on pages Just awaiting to be written.Some don't open it for ages,Maybe afraid of being bitten.

As long as you keep secrets and suppress information, you are fundamentally at war with yourself…The critical issue is allowing yourself to know what you know. That takes an enormous amount of courage.

And for a moment it seemed to me as if I also were buried in a vast grave full of unspeakable secrets.