…his voice was like the cracking of ice on a winter lake, and the words were mocking
—George R.R.
Life is too fleet for onomatopoeia.
—Mervyn Peake
DADDYYou do not do, you do not doAny more, black shoeIn which I have lived like a footFor thirty years, poor and white,Barely daring to breathe or Achoo.Daddy, I have had to kill you.You died...
—Sylvia Plath
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