Girls blush, sometimes, because they are alive, half wishing they were dead to save the shame. The sudden blush devours them, neck and brow; They have drawn too near the fire of life, like gnats, and flare up bodily, wings and all. What then? Who's sorry for a gnat or girl?

Elizabeth Barrett Browning
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Elizabeth Barrett Browning
Elizabeth Barrett Browning
Elizabeth Barrett Browning
Elizabeth Barrett Browning