You are not a woman. You may try-but you can never imagine what it is to have a man's force of genius in you and yet to suffer the slavery of being a girl.

licited from spirits; it cannot be obtained inductively from experience, nor by any

it might be dark outside, but the sun is shining behind the clouds.

Now we must feast!’ Dorothy declared as they headed indoors. Not on the baby, but on its placenta, fried by Jeanette with onions and parsley. Viola declined her portion – it seemed like cannibalism, not to mention utterly disgusting.

Written By Kate Atkinson

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