He will leave himself but little merit, but with an
air of candid conviction he attributes even his authorship to his
Thomasine. "Her name ought to stand next to mine on the title-pages of
my books," he has repeatedly declared. And again, "If I have written
anything that is good, then my wife deserves as much credit for it as
myself ... Without her nothing would have come of it except nonsense."
Even though that may be an exaggeration, pure delusion it is not. For
Mrs. Lie is, in a certain way, the complement to her husband. She
possesses what he has not; and he possesses what she, in her modest
self-extinction, would never dream of laying claim to. The spirit of
order, adjustment, and lucidity is strong in her; while he, in his
fanciful exuberance, is often overwhelmed by his material, and is unable
to get it into shape. Then she quietly steps in and separates the dry
land from the water in his seething and struggling chaos. She is one of
those rare women who, while apparently only listening, can give you back
your own thoughts clarified.
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