She
longed for the pen in her hand, the
smooth paper under it, to be telling, to
be explaining, because all of a sudden then the picture in black and white
would begin to glow in its natural colors. To write it down was to put the
finishing touch on any event, see
what it was, what it meant, what it stood
for. To put anything into words was like pouring melted wax on top of cold
glasses of jelly, to harden there and preserve and keep what was underneath
like new.
--From Good Morning, Young Lady
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