(From) Mrs. Stevens Hears the Mermaids Singing by May Sarton
At the end we were each broken in half. The boy in me was dead. I had to go on as a woman. And Dorothea? She of the disciplined mind had come to terms with the anarchic Aphrodite buried so deep within herself, who could not be brought to life except in agony. We were nearly dead; we each knew that this was a final relationship. There could be no other. But we had turned the Medusa face around and seen our selves. The long solitude ahead would be the richer for it.