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Authors:

How I will cherish you then, you grief-torn nights!Had I only received you, inconsolable sisters,on more abject knees, only buried myself with more abandon in your loosened hair. How we waste our afflictions!We study them, stare out beyond them into bleak continuance, hoping to glimpse some end. Whereas they're reallyour wintering foliage, our dark greens of meaning, oneof the seasons of the clandestine year -- ; not onlya season --: they're site, settlement, shelter, soil, abode.

Rainer Maria Rilke