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| I accommodate myself to the ways of men as much as my temperament will allow. I cover myself in a gentle cloud and take an apartment in the city. I open my house to visitors and when they come, I receive them gently. I press them for their opinions on science and politics and listen to their words. Slowly, I am infatuated not with what they are saying but with how they speak. Some men are angry, some humorous, some wise. I am uncertain which to prefer. In my free time, when I am not in company, I write down their words and form them into lyrics which I will leave here when the time comes to remove myself again to the mountains. Perhaps men will call this a "period of turbulence" in the life of the city, and I will be recorded in their history as an obscure poet whose words captured the voices of this strange time. |
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