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— John Keats"Where the nightingale doth sing Not a senseless, tranced thing, But divine melodious truth."
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If any of [my stories] succeed in causing their readers to feel pleasantly uncomfortable when walking along a solitary road at nightfall, or sitting over a dying fire in the small hours, my purpose in writing them will have been attained.
— M. R. James
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Fare thee well my nightingale, I lived but to be near you. Thow you are singing somewhere still I can no longer hear you.
— Leonard Cohen
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