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There are pains so great ( Cesar Vallejo ) That They constrict the throats of the bravest You may

try to express it: forget it A poem is a memory of something Ive forgot what it was then remembered Love is the answer of its own question: And Reprieve of anguish the utterest ( Emily Dickinson ) a Maelstrom Deep song of sorrowwhat Lorca hallowed The presence of the absence of beauty a never ending canopy of trees, the oranges reddening on branches
Thus, though we cannot make our sun Stand still, yet we will make him run.
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* http://www.bartleby.com/101/357.html accessed on February 26, 2013

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