"She snatched at the dream that had comforted her for so long. It was faded and thin, like a letter too often read."

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My tears are like the quiet drift of petals from some magic rose; and all my grief flows from the rift of unremembered skies and snows. I think that if I touched the earth, it would crumble; it is so sad and beautiful, so tremulously like a dream.

— Dylan Thomas