I know that a pretty doll, a fair fool, might do well enough for the honeymoon: but when passion cooled, how dreadful to find a lump of wax and wood laid in my bosom, a half idiot clasped in my arms, and to remember that I had made of this my equal- nay, my idol- to know that I must pass the rest of my dreary life with a creature incapable of understanding what I said, of appreciating what I thought, or sympathizing.
— Jan 03, 2026 12:03PM
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