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He that has eyes to see and ears to hear may convince himself that no mortal can keep a secret. If his lips are silent, he chatters with his fingertips; betrayal oozes out of him at every pore.
Somehow grasping at vanishing snowflakes is like grasping at happiness; an act of possession which instantly gives way to nothing.
He was mad about her. She was just mad.’
‘A baby cannot hate the mother, without the mother first hating the baby.’
