Mr. Earbrass stands on the terrace at twilight.
It is bleak; it is cold; and the virtue has gone out of everything.
(Edward Gorey)
America, I have given you all and now I'm nothing.
America, two dollars and twenty-seven cents, January 17, 1956.
I can't stand my own mind.
(Allen Ginsberg)
Kiss me, you are beautiful. These are truly the last days.
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(My bookmarks are mostly things I would like to add to someday, so don't pay them too much mind...)