A blank helpless sort of face, rather like a rose just before you drench it with D.D.T. – John Carey
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The smile that flickers on baby’s lips when he sleeps — does anyone know where it was born? Yes, there is a rumor that a young pale beam of a crescent moon touched the edge of a vanishing autumn cloud, and there the smile was first born in the dream of a dew-washed morning. – Rabindranath Tagore
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