To be a queen is to be less than human. To put pride before desire…to search men’s hearts for tenderness…and find only ambition…
to cry out in the dark for one unselfish
voice…and hear only the dry rustle of papers of state.
To turn to one’s beloved with
star for eyes and have him see behind them only the shadow of the executioner’s
block.
A queen has no hour for love.
Time presses, events crowd upon her. And
for a shell, an empty, glittering husk…she must give up all that a woman holds
most dear.
