If you were a poet in need of rhymes, you had only to turn to a certain page. The Bed Room 400 XIX. Even the chattering monkeys, parrots, and parrakeets departed the fruit groves for the smelly dark of the jungle. "Nobody composes any more, nobody paints, nobody writes—I mean, on a par with what we've just heard. I want to go to that because it’s a new experience, because I think it will be interesting and give me a view of things.
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