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There is a pleasure in the pathless woods,
There is a rapture on the lonely shore,
There is society, where none intrudes,
By the deep sea, and music in its roar:
I love not man the less, but Nature more.



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A product of the gaze that stares out and finds nothing to reflect it. There can be no silence up in the mountains,
since their very contours roar. And for there to be silence, time itself has to attain a sort of horizontality.



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