"It is the evening that questions thus from within me."
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Day, like a weary pilgrim, had reached the western gate of heaven, and Evening stooped down to unloose the latchets of his sandal shoon.
— Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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The moon glows on the river, wind rustles the pines. Long night clear evening--what are they for?
— Ueda Akinari
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