"The heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked. Who can know it?"

"He was too pretty, too delicate and fair-skinned; each of his features was shaped with a sensitive accuracy, and a girlish tenderness softened his eyes, which were brown and very large. His brown hair, cut short, was streaked with pure yellow strands. A kind of tired, imploring expression masked his thin face, and there was an unyouthful sag about his shoulders." Truman Capote, Other Voices, Other Rooms.
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