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"So on a not unpleasant day in March, she rose in the dark in the morning, even before the day had any sort of character, to give herself plenty of time to bathe, eat, lay out money for the bus, dress, listen to the spirituals on the radio. She was eighty-six years old, and had learned that life was all chaos and chaos even in the most innocent of moments. Offer a crust of bread to a sick bird and you often drew back a bloody finger."
- Edward P. Jones from Marie
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