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492 pages, Kindle Edition
First published January 1, 1973
'I want to die, sister, to die!' Medea yelled through clenched lips, genuinely wondering why the whole palace couldn't hear her, why nobody was running towards her. The word 'love' made Medea tremble so much that she found it hard to enounce it even to herself. This little word, so harmless at first sight, comprised so much resistance and unhappiness, and implied such terrible visions, that Medea felt she was gasping for breath, drained of strength and dissolving in the air, becoming as light and insubstantial as air. Saying the word and feeling guilty were the same thing, as if falling in love meant you had to commit a crime, and if you wanted, you had to express and assert your love. (102)
That is how time had passed, like a piece of cloth ripped when transfixed on a javelin tip, laing bare a country, leaving it shattered like a woman wodowed at her own wedding, and then dying itself (154).