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I’ve had so many names. Old names that only the wind and the trees can pronounce. I am the mountain, the forest and the earth.

Pan’s Labyrinth

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Many a night I saw the Pleiads, rising thro’ the mellow shade,. Glitter like a swarm of fireflies tangled in a silver braid.

Alfred, Lord Tennyson, 1837-8, Locksley

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This thick air is murderous;
I would breathe water.

Sylvia Plath, from Full Fathom Five

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159 plays

W. Mozart
Piano Concerto No.22 In E-flat, K 482: (II) Andante
Malcolm Bilson, fortepiano
English Baroque Soloists - John Eliot Gardiner, dir.

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I write differently from what I speak, I speak differently from what I think, I think differently from the way I ought to think, and so it all proceeds into deepest darkness.

Franz Kafka

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