We can’t afford to turn our women, our Madonnas, our Saint Catherines, our Mona Lisas, our goddesses and angels and fairy princesses, into a sort of man. I’ve had the rarest luck and fallen on my feet. She recalled how she had stretched out her arms toward the magic blue horizon. By a tacit agreement they ignored the significant thing between them, ignored the slipping away of the ground on which they had stood together hitherto.
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