"You went and broke our lives. You are so much worse than a cheater. You killed something. And you killed it when its back was turned."

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And this tenderness was not like That which a certain poet At the beginning of the century called true And, for some reason, quiet. No, not at all— It rang out, like the first waterfall, It crunched like the crust of bluish ice And it prayed with a swanlike voice, And it broke down right before our eyes.

— Anna Akhmatova