“They were complete little people talking to her from a mind she knew nothing about and would have to learn to apprehend; although this person had grown in her body, had torn it emerging, had once shared pulse and food and blood and joy and grief, it was now a separate person whose innards, mind and spirit and emotion, she would never completely comprehend. It was as if one weren't born suddenly, but progressively; as if each birth were also a death, each step they made in development moving them further away from her, from their oneness with her, and in time, far, far from her, they would merge with others, have children themselves, join and separate, until the final separation, which would also be a birth into a new mode.”
Book:The Women's Room
