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By AnonymDominic Smith
The forger was too exacting, too superficial. Only the real artist has the false beginning.
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By AnonymDominic Smith
There are pockets of time, she thinks, where every sense rings like a bell, where the world brims with fleeting grace.
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By AnonymDominic Smith
We're conduits for the universe's desire to think about itself.
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By AnonymDominic Smith
You say love's so important, but how can you prove it? Love is like soap, it works if you use it.
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