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Who has not asked himself at some time or other: am I a monster or is this what it means to be a person? —Clarice Lispector, The Hour of the Star
It is madness to write things down. —Elizabeth Bowen, The Death of the Heart
I hate her right now: she suffered a blow; she picked herself up. Now she’s stepped back into her meaningful life. And she makes it look easy. It isn’t—for some of us.
