The poems that used to entrance me in the days of Miss Violence now struck me as overdone and sickly. -the archaic language of unrequited love. I was irritated with such words, which rendered the unhappy lovers-I could now see-faintly ridiculous, like poor moping Miss Violence herself. Soft-edged, blurry, soggy, like a bun fallen into the water. Nothing you'd want to touch,
( Margaret Atwood )
[ The Blind Assassin ]
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