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I act as a sponge. I soak it up and squeeze it out in ink every two weeks.
— Janet Flanner
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My table is now brightly, now dimly lighted. Its temperature varies. It may receive an ink stain. One of its legs may be broken. It may be repaired, polished, and replaced part by part. But, for me, it remains the table at which I daily write.
— Ernst Mach
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