T. S. Eliot
The progress of an artist is a continual self-sacrifice, a continual extinction of personality.
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Her angel's face, As the great eye of heaven...You don't understand! I coulda had class...Designs of purely arbitrary nature cannot be expected...Food is not just eating energy. It's an experience...Tomorrow is only found in the calendar of fools...I don't want to be famous. I like to be able to sit...
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