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The human bones are but vain lines dawdling, the whole universe a blank mold of stars.
— Jack Kerouac
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Here, too, a brand-new day is beginning. It could be a day like all the others, or it could be a day remarkable enough in many ways to remain in the memory. In either case, for now, for most people, it is a blank sheet of paper.
— Haruki Murakami
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