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We couldn't imagine the emptiness of a creature who put a razor to her wrists and opened her veins, the emptiness and the calm.

Jeffrey Eugenides
Sad, Suicide, Veins
Jeffrey Eugenides (1993). “The Virgin Suicides: A Novel”, p.243, Macmillan
We couldn't imagine the emptiness of a creature who put a razor to her wrists and opened her veins, the emptiness and the calm.