We're too busy being taken aback the the sheer size and scope of things to do anything but lose our minds a little, like the first time you go to a grocery store and realize there's more than one kind of Wheat Thin. But for me - for most of us, I'd guess - it was more like Beethoven's Fifth. I'm sure there are those for whom getting out of prison is a whole, like, Beethoven's Ninth sort of thing. she has no memory of the night of the crime, but the evidence puts her in jail for ten years, until some evidentiary mismanagement in her case comes to light and she is released into the world once more, part trembly-legged fawn, part long-suppressed wolverine. When jane is seventeen, her mother is violently murdered in their home, and all signs seem to point to jane being her killer.
I spun in circles to prove I could walk a straight line after. My recklessness was a demonstration of restraint. And I bet it's liberating for them, like spinning in circles and falling to the ground. Of a conscious decision to ignore repercussions and eventualities. There are those for whom recklessness is a state of abandon. she grows into beautiful, bitter, controlling young adulthood, all "fuck-you" façade and calculating manipulation, as self-destructive as she is tightly self-controlled, careening through life on a mission to get what she wants and embarrass her mother while getting it. It's about a firecracker of a girl named jane, raised in flamboyant, isolated wealth and kept at an emotional arms-length by her elegant and dignified mother. this book is definitely a good readalike for flynn-fans, although it has a slightly less nihilistic edge, and less colorful violence. the author knows what she's doing - walking that popular gillian flynn female-antihero line, and the narrator herself would definitely not like you, so all's fair. Multi-tools are like insults, girls-you should always have one on hand it's about a firecracker of a girl named jane, HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY!! HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY!! Multi-tools are like insults, girls-you should always have one on hand you're not going to like this narrator. She knows she really didn't like her mother. But with the whole of America's media on her tail, convinced she's literally got away with murder, she has to do everything she can to throw her pursuers off the scent. Now she's been released on a technicality she's determined to unravel the mystery of her mother's last words, words that send her to a tiny town in the very back of beyond.
#Brave heart dear daughter lyrics trial
Ten years ago, in a trial that transfixed America, Janie was convicted of murdering her mother. In San Francisco we had a girl who looked like me board a plane to Hawaii.īut you probably already know that I'm not. We doubled back once, twice, then drove south when we were really headed east. LA IT girl Janie Jenkins As soon as they processed my release Noah and I hit the ground running. But you probably already know that I'm not. In San Francisco we had a girl who looked like me board a plane to Hawaii. The purple flower droops: the golden bee Is lily-cradled: I alone awake.As soon as they processed my release Noah and I hit the ground running. For now the noonday quiet holds the hill: The grasshopper is silent in the grass: The lizard, with his shadow on the stone, Rests like a shadow, and the winds are dead. "O mother Ida, many-fountain'd Ida, Dear mother Ida, harken ere I die. She, leaning on a fragment twined with vine, Sang to the stillness, till the mountain-shade Sloped downward to her seat from the upper cliff. Her cheek had lost the rose, and round her neck Floated her hair or seem'd to float in rest. Hither came at noon Mournful none, wandering forlorn Of Paris, once her playmate on the hills.
Behind the valley topmost Gargarus Stands up and takes the morning: but in front The gorges, opening wide apart, reveal Troas and Ilion's column'd citadel, The crown of Troas. On either hand The lawns and meadow-ledges midway down Hang rich in flowers, and far below them roars The long brook falling thro' the clov'n ravine In cataract after cataract to the sea. The swimming vapour slopes athwart the glen, Puts forth an arm, and creeps from pine to pine, And loiters, slowly drawn. There lies a vale in Ida, lovelier Than all the valleys of Ionian hills.
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