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I'm living in your letters.. Breathe deeply from this envelope
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Friday, February 6th, 2004

Time Event
To ------
Music, when soft voices die,
Vibrates in the memory--
Odors, when sweet violets sicken,
Live within the sense they quicken.

Rose leaves, when the rose is dead,
Are heaped for the beloved's bed;
And so thy thoughts, when thou art gone,
Love itself shall slumber on.

-Percy Bysshe Shelley

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