"Yesterday I did not want to be borrowed but this is the typewriter that sits before me and love is where yesterday is at."

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A work of art wastes away and becomes lustreless in surroundings where it has a price but not a value. It radiates only when surrounded by love. It is bound to wilt in a world where the rich have no time and the cultivated no money. But it never harmonizes with borrowed greatness.

— Ernst Junger