"She smiles through a thousand tears, and harbors adolescent fears. She dreams of all that she can never be, she wades in insecurity."

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Where lies the final harbor, whence we unmoor no more? In what rapt ether sails the world, of which the weariest will never weary? Where is the foundling’s father hidden? Our souls are like those orphans whose unwedded mothers die in bearing them: the secret of our paternity lies in their grave, and we must there to learn it.

— Herman Melville