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“I learned to know the love of bare November days,”
— Robert Frost, from The Complete Poems; “My November Guest,” (via violentwavesofemotion)
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— Edna St. Vincent Millay, Song of a Second April
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Missing someone who's not alive is an indescribable pain
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Jean-Paul Sartre, from No Exit and Three Other Plays; “The Flies”
Text ID: The only loves I've known were phantom loves,
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Marguerite Duras, from The Easy Life
Text ID: I was no one, I had neither name nor face. Moving through August, I was: nothing.
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An Iberian lynx (Lynx pardinus) carrying the carcass of a European rabbit, its main prey species.
© Pete Oxford, WWE/National Geographic
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