Käthchen, mädchen, Käthchen. Heinrich von Kleist
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We embraced/ we couldn’t see/ the future dangling in front us/ the past now too far to see/ But we didn’t look we didn’t care/ There was something left between us then/ but now I feel it’s just not quite there/ and you’re oh oh uh oh oh, oh oh oh uh oh oh. Micah P Hinson
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I am the foam that sweeps and fills the uttermost rims of the rocks with whiteness;
I am also a girl, here in this room. Virginia Woolf
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It’s the Stendhal syndrome I am talking about. The swooning factor. That swooning feeling. It seems that when the writer Stendhal looked at some masterpieces (…) he could feel the pain depicted in certain paintings, he could hear the paintings talking, the figures in them moving around. He felt himself moving into the painting, being pulled into it. These were physical symptoms: dizziness, nausea, vertigo, even sexual arousal (…) Stendhal himself felt incapacitated for a day or so after seeing the masterpieces. William Boroughs
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Being absent to its passage is what would make me sad. But the fact that it passes is a phenomenon among others for me. How I love those lines of Celan! Jahre (one line, new line:) Jahre, Jahre. Years. But what is years? Hélène Cixous
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