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Some pale, hueless flicker of sensitivity is in me. God, must I lose it in cooking scrambled eggs for a man.

Sylvia Plath
Men, Eggs, Cooking
Sylvia Plath (2013). “The Journals of Sylvia Plath”, p.33, Anchor
Some pale, hueless flicker of sensitivity is in me. God, must I lose it in cooking scrambled eggs for a man.