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Margaret Fuller Slack

Topics: classic

I would have been as great as George Eliot         But for an untoward fate.         For look at the photograph of me made by Penniwit,         Chin resting on hand, and deep - set eyes -         Gray, too, and far-searching.         But there was the old, old problem:         Should it be celibacy, matrimony or unchastity?         Then John Slack, the rich druggist, wooed me,         Luring me with the promise of leisure for my novel,         And I married him, giving birth to eight children,         And had no time to write.         It was all over with me, anyway,         When I ran the needle in my hand         While washing the baby's things,         And died from lock - jaw, an ironical death.         Hear me, ambitious souls,         Sex is the curse of life.

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"I would have been as great as George Eliot..."

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