an eminently terrestrial thing

I have never had to save my pen, it has saved me.

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A book’s success these days: a bird soaring one moment, then falling to disappear among the grass the next.

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Someone said, “What influences us is what we love. What we take from others is what resembles us and thus already belongs to us.”
Hence in part it feeds the fire, but sometimes the fire would like to consume everything.

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Art is an eminently terrestrial thing.