When did I become so cynical? "There's nothing I find completely surprising"---is that really true? Is it just something a cynical, jaded ego insists on blindly as an axiom of experience?
' ... From wrong to wrong the exasperated spirit Proceeds, unless restored by that refining fire Where you must move in measure, like a dancer.' The day was breaking. In the disfigured street He left me, with a kind of valediction, And faded on the blowing of the horn.
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