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Authors:

Dreams were the worst. Of course I dreamed of foodand love, but they were pleasant rather than otherwise. But then I'd dream of thingslike slitting a baby's throat, mistaking itfor a baby goat. I'd havenightmares of other islandsstretching away from mine, infinitiesof islands, islands spawning islands, like frogs' eggs turning into polliwogsof islands, knowing that I had to liveon each and every one, eventually, for ages, registering their flora, their fauna, their geography.

Elizabeth Bishop