"It's very weird to write a song in your apartment and then realize that this random person knows all the words to it."

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Although love dwells in gorgeous palaces, and sumptuous apartments, more willingly than in miserable and desolate cottages, it cannot be denied but that he sometimes causes his power to be felt in the gloomy recesses of forests, among the most bleak and rugged mountains, and in the dreary caves of a desert.

— Giovanni Boccaccio