and sometimes still... I wonder if it will not all be too much for you...
my constant demands of your attention...
even after all this time...
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...But the Raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only that one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour. Nothing farther then he uttered—not a feather then he fluttered— Till I scarcely more than muttered ”Other friends have flown before— On the morrow he will leave me, as my hopes have flown before.” Then the bird said “Nevermore.”...
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