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Breaker of chains, Dionysos who rends the ordinary from the day like the skin from the skull

gorgeous--if you write or dream it, are you surprised he comes?'

The dead keep singing, out of rivers, out of deserts, out of long-dry ink and just-stilled strings. I am glad of them.

--"Through all the tumult and the strife, I hear that music ringing. It sounds an echo in my soul-- how can I keep from singing?"

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