"Without the story - in which everyone living, unborn and dead, participates - men are no more than bits of paper blown on the cold wind."

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When thou are not pleased, beloved, Then my heart is sad and darkened, As the shining river darkens When the clouds drop shadows on it! When thou smilest, my beloved, Then my troubled heart is brightened, As in sunshine gleam the ripples That the cold wind makes in rivers.

— Henry Wadsworth Longfellow