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Sleep is for the weak.

I collected the reasons against it, which were in every body’s mouth. I marked them down, with, I think, some additions. (You may or may not remember.)

I feign now pleasure—sleep in splendour—notwithstanding

the sadness of the subject.

(Please read the letter.)

A fool could read the signs.

from Clasp

Sandra Ridley

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Dzvinia Orlowsky

Wine of Angels

translated from the Ukrainian written by
Natalka Bilotserkivets