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Quand un souffle furtif glisse en ses cheveux blonds, Une cendre ineffable inonde son épaule, Et, de leur transparence argentant leurs cils longs, Ses yeux out la couleur des belle nuits du pôle. Et le gardien pensif du mystique oranger Des balcons de l'Aurore eternelle se penche, Et regarde passer ce fantôme léger Dans les plis de sa robe immortellement blanche. "Immortellement blanche!"
These are great traditions and charming precedents, I hold, and it doesn't seem to me fair that a little American bourgeoise should come in and pretend to alter them all to hang her modern photograph and her obstinate little air penche in the gallery of our shrewd great-grandmothers. She should fall into line, she should keep up the tone.
A new intoxication carried him away. 'Il faut etre toujours ivre. Tout est la: c'est l'unique question. Little though he knew it, Gordon was a disciple of Baudelaire. 'Pour ne pas sentir l'horrible fardeau du Temps qui brise vos epaules et vous penche vers la terre, il faut vous enivrer sans treve. Yes- but how feeble were those gross resources of the miserable Abdul-Shakur! Rum? Brandy?
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