O God Your Morning Is Perfect… I Am Frightened that My Prayer Will Fall Into My Mind. Somewhere This Morning Agony Is Explained. I Am Trying To Know You In The Kitchen Where I Sit. I Fear My Small Heart. I Cannot Understand Why My Arm Is Not A Lilac Tree. I Am Frightened Because Death Is Your Idea. Now I Do Not Think It Behooves Me To Describe Your World.
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| — | Leonard Cohen(’s novel), Beautiful Losers, 1966 |
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