I walk without flinching through the burning cathedral of the summer. My bank of wild grass is majestic and full of music. It is a fire that solitude presses against my lips.
I give myself to adjectives body and soul, I die with pleasure for them.
Every secret of a writer's soul, every experience of his life, every quality of his mind i...- Virginia Woolf
Not all human souls but only the pious ones are divine.- Georg Hermes
My soul’s a trampled duelling ground where Sade, the gallant marquis, fences for his lif...- Edgell Rickword
Go straight for souls, and go for the worst.- William Booth
The soul of man is a far country, which cannot be approached or explored. Most of the dead...- D. M. Thomas
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|Birth:||7th April, 1907|
|Death:||28th May, 1972|
Violette Leduc was a French author. She was born in Arras, Pas de Calais, France, the illegitimate daughter of a servant girl, Berthe. In Valenciennes, the young Violette spent most of her childhood suffering from poor self-esteem, exacerbated by her mother's hostility and overprotectiveness.
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