"Could you imagine how horrible things would be if we always told others how we felt? Life would be intolerably bearable."

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I lay down on the bed clasping the pictures and buried my face in the pillow in a vain attempt at silencing my sobs. But it was as if all my life's accumulated grief had finally found an outlet and was allowed to take its course. I screamed, I cried, until the grief became bearable. (174)

— Linda Olsson