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Dawn Powell, the doyenne of oft-rediscovered authors, finally made it into the Library of America in 2001

Maybe lasting love is a rare evolutionary lagniappe.

Was romance hierophany, or some fowler’s snare that yanked a culture by the toe?

unless the premise—that there is such a thing as love, and it recurs—was false, so that apostasy was really a lapse into truth, like Galileo’s.

Their minds grew lucent as gels.