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“On the morrow he will leave me, as my hopes have flown before.”
“Prophet!” said I, “thing or evil-prophet still, if bird or devil-”
“As of someone gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.”
"each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor"
“Tell my why thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonium Shore!”
And the silken, sad, uncertain rustling of each purple curtainThrilled me—filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
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