She realized more and more the quality of the brink upon which she stood—the dreadful readiness with which in certain moods she might plunge, the unmitigated wrongness and recklessness of such a self-abandonment. “We won’t. ‘Exactement. I am afraid because I love you, so that the mere thought of failure hurts. The highest form of knowledge was magic: the priesthood. It is easy enough to sing these little chansons in an original way—it requires a very different sort of ability to succeed on the stage.
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