No, no no no, she’s outside, looking in.
Madeleine L’Engle, who in writing more than 60 books, including childhood fables, religious meditations and science fiction, weaved emotional tapestries transcending genre and generation, died Thursday in Connecticut. She was 88.
Weaved? Is that acceptable? I would have said wove.
She mattered really a lot.
Best headline yet comes from Fark: Tessa-wrecked: Madeline L’Engle dies at 88.
For Our Children’s Children’s Children
Wasn’t that from “In Search Of The Lost Chord”? Whoa, I’m dating myself…
she was my favorite author ever. :(