Tuesday, September 10, 2013

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Weary am I of the tumult, sick of the staring crowd,
Pining for wild sea places where the soul may think aloud.
Fled is the glamour of cities, dead as the ghost of a dream,
While I pine anew for the tint of blue on the breast of the old Gulf Stream.
...
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Eugene O'Neill
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Eugene O'Neill

Eugene O'Neill

New York City
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