"It is said that some Western steamers can run on a heavy dew, whence we can imagine what a canoe may do."

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And I'll dance with you in Vienna, I'll be wearing a river's disguise. The hyacinth wild on my shoulder my mouth on the dew of your thighs. And I'll bury my soul in a scrapbook, with the photographs there and the moss. And I'll yield to the flood of your beauty, my cheap violin and my cross.

— Leonard Cohen