Many things were only words, sounds; she could not construct these words and sounds into objects; or, if she did, invariably missed the mark. ” She noted that as a good saying, and it germinated and spread tentacles of explanation through her brain. " "Yes. “I’m thirsty. " "What?" he barked. “Why do you hate me again, my love?” He seemed to brighten, feeding upon the intensity of her emotion.
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