"We must always skim over pleasures. They are like marshy lands that we must travel nimbly, hardly daring to put down our feet."

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Yet, I wondered why Marshall did not at least attempt a kiss. In many ways, his treatment of me reminded me of the way I had behaved toward the doll that Mamma Mae had given me as a child. I favored it so that I had refused myself of the joy of playing with it, daring to love it only with my eyes. But in doing so, I had denied myself its very purpose.

— Kathleen Grissom