What moment in the gradual decay does
resurrection choose? What year? What day?
Who has the stopwatch? Who rewinds the tape?
Are some lucky? Or do all escape? . . .




Now I shall spy on beauty as none has
spied on it yet. Now I shall cry out as
None has cried out. Now I shall try what none
Has tried. Now I shall do what none has done . . .



Vladamir Nabakov, Pale Fire


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