The stretch of red dirt disappeared into a stretch of trees like Van Gogh’s painting. At least that, I think, is what makes a clever woman’s independent career so much more difficult than a clever man’s. “Why do you kill me?” Michelle asked. She meant to go, she meant to go, she meant to go. . And I've made up my mind that a husband ought to believe only half that he hears, and nothing that he sees. “Always planning for death.
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