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Tackling matters of time and eternity. For her, Noon at Rome. Our crazy little oikos of the Sun. I had a friend insist .

Poetry and the Gods by H. Attired simply, in a low-cut black evening dress, she appeared outwardly a typical product of modern civilization; but tonight she felt the immeasurable gulf that separated her soul from all her prosaic surroundings. Was it because of the strange home in which she lived, that abode of coldness where relations were always strained and the inmates scarcely more than strangers? Moon over the tropics, A whi.

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