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“But beauty was not everything. Beauty had this penalty–it came too readily, came to completely. It stilled life–froze it.One forgot the little agitations; the flush, the pallor, some queer distortion, some light or shadow, which made the face unrecognisable for a moment and yet added a quality one saw for ever after. It was simpler to smooth that all out under the cover of beauty.” To The Lighthouse, Virginia Woolf

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