If she could give love to IT perhaps it would shrivel up and die, for she was sure that IT could not withstand love.
Madeleine L'EngleAbout author
- Author's profession: Novelist
- Nationality: american
- Born: November 29, 1918
- Died: September 6, 2007
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I'm a riddle in nine syllables, An elephant, a ponderous house, A melon strolling on two tendrils. O red fruit, ivory, fine timbers! This loaf's big with its yeasty rising. Money's new-minted in this fat purse. I'm a means, a stage, a cow in calf. I've eaten a bag of green apples, Boarded the train there's no getting off.
Sylvia Plath