something about vita sackville-west writing "how pleased i shall be to sit on your floor again" to virginia woolf is the most simple yet devastating line about intimacy and longing i have ever read
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the rhyming scheme in faust makes me feel like im reading dr. seuss but with dark religious undertones
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when kafka said ‘you wouldn’t believe the kind of person I could become if you wanted it’ and when brontë said ‘if you ever looked at me with what I know is in you, I would be your slave’ and when Sartre said ‘if I’ve got to suffer it may as well be at your hands’
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Jean Paul Sartre and his cat, named Nothing
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Ernest Hemingway and his polydactyl cat, Princess six-toes.
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vladimir mayakovsky holding a cat
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A young Sylvia Plath and her cat.
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Foucault and his cat, named Insanity
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