For support, I fall back on my heart. Has a man any fault a woman cannot weave with and try to change into something better, if the god her man prays to is a mother holding a baby?

Unless it was about to cause you bodily harm, rot your rhubarb on the stalk, or carry off your children, weather ought either to be celebrated or ignored.

Indeed, it was his wonderful mildness chiefly, which not only disarmed me, but unmanned me, as it were.

..., her mouth working mutely like the valve of an undersea creature

Written By John Banville

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