“The music ends. The screen grows dark. We hurry
To go our devious secret ways, forgetting
Those many lives... We loved, we laughed, we killed,
We danced in fire, we drowned in a whirl of sea-waves.
The flutes are stilled, and a thousand dreams are stilled.”

— Conrad Aiken

The House of Dust (1916 - 1917)

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Conrad Aiken 70

American novelist and poet 1889–1973

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