“ January gray is here, like a sexton by her grave; February bears the bier, march with grief doth howl and rave, and April weeps — but, O ye hours! Follow with May's fairest flowers. ”
- Percy Bysshe Shelley- Copy
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“ Strange, that some of us, with quick alternate vision, see beyond our infatuations, and even while we rave on the heights, behold the wide plain where our persistent self pauses and awaits us. ”
- George Eliot- Copy
- 1.3K
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