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1 " [...]And Faust knowsthat he will not speak of it,and if so only by a comma,only by a word in a big new book.It is really something likea coat of grey fur over the soul,like the uniform the unknown soldierwears inside him.And so he goes and starts a painting,or a gay little song,or a big new book.Nothing has happened but wealways saw if comingAll in all India inkis the blood's first sisterand song is just as finalas life and deathand equally without allegory,without transcendenceand without fuss. "
― Miroslav Holub , Selected Poems