I must rejoice that I am part of her, instead of resenting that I am not more of her.

Pues sólo existe una gran aventura y es hacia adentro, hacia uno mismo, y para esa ni el tiempo ni el espacio, ni los actos siquiera, importan.

With false names, on the right nets, they could be anybody. Old men, middle-aged women, anybody, as long as they were careful about the way they wrote. All that anyone would see were the words, their ideas. Every citizen started equal, on the nets.

Let her out!" I screamed at the tree. I beat on its trunk with my muddy fists. "Let her out, or I'll bring you down! Fulmia!" I cried out in rage . . .

Written By Naomi Novik

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