Sappho — "You burn me."
You burn me.
You burn me.
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"Someone, I tell you, in another time will remember us."
"I want to tell you something but good taste. Restrains me."
"My blood with gentle horrors thrilled: My feeble pulse forgot to play; I fainted, sunk, and died away."
"What cannot be said will be wept."
"If you are squeamish, don't prod the beach rubble."
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