But even so, amid the tornadoed Atlantic of my being, do I myself still for ever centrally disport in mute calm; and while ponderous planets of unwaning woe revolve round me, deep down and deep inland there I still bathe me in eternal mildness of joy.
Chapter 87, The Grand Armada
She was always referred to as “the emotional one” in the family, which, given the family environment, wasn’t any particular accomplishment. Her closest competition for the title could easily have been the bag of potatoes sprouting on the dark pantry floor. She was raised by Vulcans.
So, pardon if once she went out into the world of men, which she honestly had very little exposure to those first eighteen years, she was a little perplexed by their peculiar behavior and the inevitable and perpetual conclusion that:
It is all my fault.
It is always
Which has me…
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