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Your face encompasses the beauty of the whole earth. Your lips, as red as ripening fruit, gently part as if in pain. It is the smile of a corpse. Now the hand of death touches life. The chain is forged that links the thousand families that are dead to the thousand generations to come.
-- Edvard Munch
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From my rotting body, flowers shall grow and I am in them and that is an eternity. –
-- Edvard Munch
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