Fet's Soliloquizing:
Afanasy Afanasevich Fet
Whence have I come and whither am I hasting
Do not inquire;
Now a graceful flower I have settled
And now respire.
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The Lepidopterist kept thinking while wiping the fine blue pollen from his hands to his shirt 'I am going to miss these dusty old books.'
Stacks of them were lined up against the walls, within their covers, thousands of tissue like wings tucked under cellophane.
It was a critical time for the plump little sleepy man. Nothing now to look forward to but old Rorschach and the endless zools awaiting him.
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