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This is a previously-published edition of ISBN 8433920170.
158 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1958

It may be normal, darling; but I’d rather be natural.
Never love a wild thing … you can’t give your heart to a wild thing; the more you do, the stronger they get. Until they’re strong enough to run into the woods. Or fly into a tree. Then a taller tree. Then the sky.
Holly:"... good things only happen to you if you're good. Good? Honest is more what I mean. Not law-type honest -- I'd rob a grave, I'd steal two-bits off a dead man's eyes if I thought it would contribute to the day's enjoyment -- but unto-thyself-type honest. Be anything but a coward, a pretender, an emotional crook, a whore: I'd rather have cancer than a dishonest heart. Which isn't being pious. Just practical. Cancer may cool you, but the other's sure to. Oh, screw it, cookie -- hand me my guitar, and I'll sing you a fada in the most perfect Portuguese."Her story is narrated by her upstairs neighbor, an aspiring writer, who befriended her, despite a downstairs neighbor, Madame Sapphia Spanella's outspoken wrath against Holly: "A crude exhibitionist, a time waster, an utter fake, somebody never to be spoken to again". But Holly was also 'pampered, calmly immaculate, as though she'd been attended by Cleopatra's maids'.
"Fred's a soldier," said Holly. "But I doubt if he'll ever be a statue. Could be. They say the more stupid you are the braver. He's pretty stupid."This is a short novella, about a female character who deserved her place as one of the most outstanding literary characters of all times. What captured me the most is the way this young woman was presented to the world. Someone who could be loved; a young woman who could become a friend. She had heart and soul. She was warm and wonderful. But just as cold and calculating, since she did not quite trust the people's intentions towards her and therefore never really allowed herself to bond with anyone.
"Fred's that boy upstairs? I didn't realize he was a soldier. But he does look stupid."
"Yearning. Not stupid. He wants awfully to be on the inside staring out: anybody with their nose pressed against a glass is liable to look stupid. Anyhow, he's a different Fred. Fred's my brother."
"You call your own f-f-flesh and b-b-blood stupid?"
"If he is he is."
"I like a man who sees the humor; most of them, they're all pant and puff."Her actions prevented people to come too near, even her friends stood aside. A tragic figure. A statistic for the cognoscenti, the people who despised the likes of her.