THE INSOMNIAC POSTS

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What though the radiance which was once so bright

Be now for ever taken from my sight,

Though nothing can bring back the hour

Of splendor in the grass, of glory in the flower;

We will grieve not, rather find

Strength in what remains behind;

In the primal sympathy

Which having been must ever be...

SPLENDOR IN THE GRASS William Wordsworth. 1770–1850

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Natalie Wood