Trying to find a taxi, especially when traveling with the whole family at rush hour,she has been known to throw herself on her knees on the pavement of Park Avenue, with hands upraised, hoping some taxi driver with a sense of humor will stop, a practice frowned upon by her husband. Prone to exaggeration ("Of course I exaggerate — I'm a writer"), she can't resist making everything a little bigger than life, with hundreds becoming thousands and thousands becoming millions. She even refers to Chekhov's Three Sisters, as Four Sisters, and Orwell's 1984 as 1985. She can't help it.
All of you, whatever you are doing, stop right now and go and read this article about Madeleine L'Engle, by her husband, Hugh Franklin. It's beyond adorable.
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