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When the hour of passing comes, what better mode for me--as a writer--than to be found dead at my work, pen still in hand, or even better--as a mystic--to be found seated under a wide-branched tree in a little wood, rapt in a meditation so deep that I shall never again return from it to this dark world!


-- Notebooks Category 12: Reflections > Chapter 6: The Profane and The Profound > # 25






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