Pardon me for thinking that, unlike ivy, I die when I become attached.

--André Breton, The Lost Steps/p>

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Multitude, solitude: terms that, to the active and fruitful poet, are synonymous and interchangeable. A man who cannot people his solitude is no less incapable of being alone in a busy crowd.

–Charles Baudelaire, “Crowds” (”Les foules“), Twenty Prose Poems

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