When a Wanderess has been caged, or perched with her wings clipped, She lives like a Stoic, She lives most heroic, smiling with ruby, moistened lips once her cup of Death is welcome sipped.
The contortions of the gargoyles were the only therapy we had.
Life from Scratch: A Memoir of Food, Family, and Forgiveness
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The contortions of the gargoyles were the only therapy we had.
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