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With the exception of my brother she had not the slightest sympathy for anyone, and I cannot remember a single set of kindness on her part.  She was evidently born completely devoid of this human trait, and as this was from no choice of her own it must be placed to other responsibility.

Living with my mother was like living on an avalanche;  there was no fixity, no foundation, only unfractional time, carrying with it the sensation of danger more mental than physical.  She had lost her sense of reality by turning to the stars.  Eventually I lost mine by turning from her to my inner self, which is, perhaps, the same thing.