From Arundhati Roy's "The God of Small Things" (p.214-215)
"Promise me you'll always love each other," she'd [the mother Ammu]
say, as she drew her children to her.
"Promise," Estha and Rahel would say. Not finding words with which to tell her that for them there was no Each, no Other.
"If you are an overeducated (or at least a semi-overeducated) youngish person with a sleep disorder and a surfeit of opinions, the thing to do, after all, is to start a blog." NYT, 09.12.05
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