Oed' und leer das Meer.
Yet when we came back, late, from the Hyacinth garden, Your arms full, and your hair wet, I could not Speak, and my eyes failed, I was neither Living nor dead, and I knew nothing, Looking into the heart of light, the silence.
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"The artist’s job is not to succumb to despair but to find an antidote for the emptiness of existence."
- Gertrude Stein, Midnight in Paris
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