viernes, 21 de abril de 2017

Fragment of a letter: Martha Gellhorn to Lucy Moorehead

"Love. Quite impossible for me, without emotional connotations. (Love. But what is love?) Not impossible for them, or anyhow they build the word love after the fact of sex. That’s all. I think it has something to do with a loneliness of the skin, a primitive sense of the terrible solitude of being a human; one needs the close physical contact, as one needs fire. Something like that. I wish I were a nymphomaniac, so much easier. Instead am fastidious and faithful. Awful."

-Martha Gellhorn

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