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“The phenomenon of female anger has often been turned against itself, the figure of the angry woman reframed as threat — not the one who has been harmed, but the one bent on harming. She conjures a lineage of threatening archetypes: the harpy and her talons, the witch and her spells, the medusa and her writhing locks. […] If an angry woman makes people uneasy, then her more palatable counterpart, the sad woman, summons sympathy more readily. She often looks beautiful in her suffering: ennobled, transfigured, elegant. Angry women are messier. Their pain threatens to cause more collateral damage. It’s as if the prospect of a woman’s anger harming other people threatens to rob her of the social capital she has gained by being wronged. We are most comfortable with female anger when it promises to regulate itself, to refrain from recklessness, to stay civilized.”
— Leslie Jamison, I Used to Insist I Didn’t Get Angry. Not Anymore. (via luxe-pauvre)
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“Melancholy were the sounds on a winter’s night.”
— Jacob’s Room, Virginia Woolf (via macrolit)
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“Even as a child she had preferred night to the day. She had always enjoyed sitting out in a meadow after sunset, under the star-speckled sky, listening to frogs and crickets. Darkness had always soothed her. It softened the sharp edges of the world and toned down the too-harsh colors of the day. With the coming of twilight, the sky always seemed to recede while the universe continued to expand.”
— DIVINE - A Persephone And Hades Retelling (via modern-day-persephone)
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The Little Hours (2017) dir. Jeff Baena
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Kat Philbin
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Crockett Brook
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Marcia Lippman
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