I knew very well what Lars meant when he praised me, and held me, and indicated through a caress that he liked me just the way I was; I knew, better than he knew himself, that he wanted to ensure he never be confronted with what, in his own personality, might need pruning or pushing or prodding, that behind every show of support he gave, for me here, for me now, there lurked a terrified refusal to acknowledge his own potential to grow.
-Sara Levine
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