The secret lives of girls

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We could never understand why the girls cared so much about being mature, or why they felt compelled to compliment each other, but sometimes, after one of us had read a long portion of the diary out loud, we had to fight back the urge to hug one another or to tell each other about how pretty we were. We felt the imprisonment of being a girl, the way it made your mind active and dreamy, and how you ended up knowing which colors went together. We knew that girls were our twins, that we all existed in space like animals with identical skins, and that they knew everything about us though we couldn’t fathom them at all. We knew, finally, that the girls were really women in disguise, that they understood love and even death, and that our job was merely to create the noise that seemed to fascinate them.

The Virgin Suicides, Jeffrey Eugenides

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Appropriate photo, because I had a (brief) sleepover with Betsey last night! So good to see her after so many years. She is a wise, wise woman. So, it’s not exactly a profound quotation, but I think it’s the best passage in The Virgin Suicides and it proves why Eugenides can write about the things that he does. Happy weekend, everyone! Hope your minds are active and dreamy.

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