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Quote #10

I thought, when I began this long letter, that its pull would be as strong as the tide's, that beneath the waves beating this way and that on its surface there would be a tug as constant as the moon's drawing you to me and me to you: the blood tug of daughter to mother, woman to woman. But with every day I add to it the letter seems to grow more abstract, more abstracted, the kind of letter one writes from the stars, from the farther void, disembodied, crystalline, bloodless. Is that to be the fate of my love? (3.418)

Mrs. Curren had believed that her letter would bring her and her daughter closer together, but instead she realizes that the act of writing makes her feel more and more estranged from her.  Could it be partly because writing is such a solitary act?

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