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Dawn.

by Arthur Henry Adams

Arthur Henry Adams

Far in the Eastern passage-way a sudden light;
The stone that blocked the sepulchre is backward rolled;
And down into the foetid, stifling vault of Night
The naked corpse of Dawn is lowered, grey and cold.




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Life is a series of collisions with the future; it is not the sum of what we have been, but what we yearn to be.

• Jose Ortega y Gasset



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