Lorena Lothringen

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Anger was a chokehold. Anger did not empower you. It sat on your chest; it squeezed your ribs until you felt trapped, suffocated, out of options. Anger simmered, then exploded. Anger was constriction, and the consequent rage a desperate attempt to breathe. And rage, of course, came from madness.
Babel, or The Necessity of Violence: An Arcane History of the Oxford Translators' Revolution
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