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H.G. Wells had one of the most notoriously complicated love lives in English letters. One of his many dalliances was with the journalist and author, Rebecca West. In a scathing letter she absolutely takes him to the cleaners over his blatant hypocrisy and callous disregard for the lives of others:

“I always knew that you would hurt me to death some day, but I hoped to choose the time and place. You’ve always been unconsciously hostile to me and I have tried to conciliate you by hacking away at my love for you, cutting it down to the little thing that was the most you wanted. I am always at a loss when I meet hostility, because I can love and I can do practically nothing else. I was the wrong sort of person for you to have to do with. You want a world of people falling over each other like puppies, people to quarrel and play with, people who rage and ache instead of people who burn. You can’t conceive a person resenting the humiliation of an emotional failure so much that they twice tried to kill themselves: that seems silly to you. I can’t conceive of a person who runs about lighting bonfires and yet nourishes a dislike of flame: that seems silly to me.”

http://www.lettersofnote.com/2012/05/i-refuse-to-be-cheated-out-of-my.html

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