She knew that she was rotting from within. She knew that what led to the clarity of light was love, something she had never experienced in her life. She had progressed to the edge of wonderment, but love was oceans away. She knew that love would come if she could sincerely feel the essence of a tree past the roughness of its bark. But always, the physical sensation of the roughness interrupted her. She always knew the malice of humankind, without herself being in its possession. She had not learnt to be malicious. She only knew malice.
― Shahrnush Parsipur, Women Without Men
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