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I walk without flinching through the burning cathedral of the summer. My bank of wild grass is majestic and full of music. It is a fire that solitude presses against my lips.
Violette Leduc
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Violette Leduc
Age: 65 †
Born: 1907
Born: April 7
Died: 1972
Died: May 28
Author
Writer
Atrecht
Sauntering
Walk
Grass
Trekking
Journey
Presses
Strolling
Walks
Burning
Majestic
Full
Wild
Cathedrals
Fire
Solitude
Music
Lips
Hiking
Flinching
Without
Summer
Bank
Cathedral
Walking
Wander
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To write is to inform against others.
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There's no sustenance in the past.
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I was and I always shall be hampered by what I think other people will say.
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To find relief in what has been, we must make ourselves eternal.
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Often, we melt into our ecstasies as though they were jams, as though we were sinking into syrupy bowls of gooseberries, of raspberries, of bilberries.
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We are talking. It's a shame. What is said is murdered. Our words that will not grow any bigger or any lovelier will wilt inside our bones. Words wither feelings.
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