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— Wallace Stevens"Funest philosophers and ponderers, Their evocations are the speech of clouds."
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Beneath the sun's rays our shadow is our comrade; When clouds obscure the sun our shadow flees. So Fortune's smiles the fickle crowd pursues, But swift is gone whenever she veils her face.
— Ovid
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The harp is an insipid instrument--no good for dancing, feasting, or marching, only for sitting primly in a parlor or on a cloud.
— Mason Cooley
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