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"It's a very Greek idea, and a very profound one. Beauty is terror. Whatever we call beautiful, we quiver before it"
-Donna Tarrt, The Secret History
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YOU ARE READING
My Beloved Raven,
PoetryRavens smell weakness; they wait for you to die, so that they can feed on you. This one's for my raven, who I sometimes love and sometimes hate. You make me feel so many things. You make me human.
