They are heard now far away, hoofs that shine amid the heavy night as gems, hurrying beyond the sleeping fields to what journey's end--what heart? --bearing what tidings? APRIL 11. --How long is it since your last confession, my child? --A long time, father. I wonder if there's any likelihood of dinner this evening. When we come to the phenomena of artistic conception, artistic gestation, and artistic reproduction I require a new terminology and a new personal experience.
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