Dawn Powell.

[One thing Caroline and Lorna had in common was an overpowering reverence for high-brows, no matter how obscure. Each had met friends’ friends of great erudition who dazzled them with thoughts and phrases gloriously beyond their own intellectual means, something they could wonder at with neither envy of the possessor nor the desire to buy. Since they were able to afford what material objects they craved, they missed the innocent female joy of window-shopping, admiring something without the disappointment of possession. On their rare opportunities to worship an articulate Brain they listened raptly; the facile conversation on politics, philosophy and particularly scholarly facets of literature they rubbed in their scalps as earnestly as if it was a new tonic and tried the phrases on their mouths like the latest lipstick. They were as proud of their respect for learning as if their awe in itself was a credit to them, an achievement close to magic.]

—From The Locusts Have No King.

I love her still.