«Sᴛᴀsᴇʀᴀ, ʀɪᴘᴇɴsᴀɴᴅᴏᴄɪ, ᴄᴏɴ ɪʟ ᴄᴜᴏʀᴇ ᴇ ʟᴏ sᴛᴏᴍᴀᴄᴏ ɪɴ sᴜʙʙᴜɢʟɪᴏ, ᴍɪ ᴅɪᴄᴏ ᴄʜᴇ ғᴏʀsᴇ ɪɴ ғᴏɴᴅᴏ ʟᴀ ᴠɪᴛᴀ ᴇ̀ ᴄᴏsɪ̀: ᴍᴏʟᴛᴀ ᴅɪsᴘᴇʀᴀᴢɪᴏɴᴇ, ᴍᴀ ᴀɴᴄʜᴇ ǫᴜᴀʟᴄʜᴇ ɪsᴛᴀɴᴛᴇ ᴅɪ ʙᴇʟʟᴇᴢᴢᴀ ᴅᴏᴠᴇ ɪʟ ᴛᴇᴍᴘᴏ ɴᴏɴ ᴇ̀ ᴘɪᴜ̀ ʟᴏ sᴛᴇssᴏ. È ᴄᴏᴍᴇ sᴇ ʟᴇ ɴᴏᴛᴇ ᴍᴜsɪᴄᴀʟɪ ᴄʀᴇᴀssᴇʀᴏ ᴜɴᴀ sᴘᴇᴄɪᴇ ᴅɪ ᴘᴀʀᴇɴᴛᴇsɪ ᴛᴇᴍᴘᴏʀᴀʟᴇ, ᴜɴᴀ sᴏsᴘᴇɴsɪᴏɴᴇ, ᴜɴ ᴀʟᴛʀᴏᴠᴇ ɪɴ ǫᴜᴇsᴛᴏ ʟᴜᴏɢᴏ, ᴜɴ sᴇᴍᴘʀᴇ ɴᴇʟ ᴍᴀɪ.
Sɪ̀, ᴇ̀ ᴘʀᴏᴘʀɪᴏ ᴄᴏsɪ̀, ᴜɴ sᴇᴍᴘʀᴇ ɴᴇʟ ᴍᴀɪ».
~Muriel Barbery, "L'eleganza del riccio"
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