(idea) by yam Wed Sep 13 2000 at 17:00:05
From Leaves of Grass, by Walt Whitman.

Hast never come to thee an hour,
A sudden gleam divine, precipitating, bursting all these bubbles, fashions, wealth?
These eager business aims — books, politics, art, amours,
To utter nothingness?
I like it!

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