“As soon as whatever provisional well of confidence dries up, I will feel like a frightened motherless child. And I will—what? Lessee, I'll beg friends to assure me I'm fascinating, that my soul is complex so I can once more conduce to irony. An abyss opens up.”
Quote by Maryse Holder
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Give Sorrow Words: Maryse Holder's Letters From Mexico
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