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— Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley"But soon, I shall die, and what I now feel be no longer felt. Soon these burning miseries will be extinct."
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A pine tree standeth lonely In the North on an upland bare; It standeth whitely shrouded With snow, and sleepeth there. It dreameth of a Palm tree Which far in the East alone, In the mournful silence standeth On its ridge of burning stone.
— Heinrich Heine
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