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3.5 ⭐
By Benedicto “BenCab” Cabrera
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Stop trying to fix broken people as some self-sacrificing, sanctimonious act of charity. Misery and hypocritcal selfishness spurned on by jealousy will ensue. Just leave onto better pastures. Take a tentative leaf out of The Tenant of Wildfell Hall and stop pretending to take the moral high ground when you stoop so low inwardly. A caustic but brief character study with a strikingly melodramatic ending
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By Benedicto “BenCab” Cabrera
n Kate Orme was engaged in one of those rapid mental excursions that were forever sweeping her from the straight path of the actual into uncharted regions of conjecture. Her survey of life had always been marked by the tendency to seek out ultimate relations, to extend her researches to the limit of her imaginative experience. But hitherto she had been like some young captive brought up in a windowless palace whose painted walls she takes for the actual world. Now the palace had been shaken to its base, and through a cleft in the walls she looked out upon life. For the first moment all was indistinguishable blackness; then she began to detect vague shapes and confused gestures in the depths. There were people below there, men like Denis, girls like herself — for under the unlikeness she felt the strange affinity — all struggling in that awful coil of moral darkness, with agonised hands reaching up for rescue. n
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Stop trying to fix broken people as some self-sacrificing, sanctimonious act of charity. Misery and hypocritcal selfishness spurned on by jealousy will ensue. Just leave onto better pastures. Take a tentative leaf out of The Tenant of Wildfell Hall and stop pretending to take the moral high ground when you stoop so low inwardly. A caustic but brief character study with a strikingly melodramatic ending
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n Long after Mr Orme had left the topic, Kate remained lost in its contemplation. She had begun to perceive that the fair surface of life was honeycombed by a vast system of moral sewage. n