Beloved Paper

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Beloved Paper,

This letter I write to you, in the praise of your being. You’ve been more patient than the virtue itself, listening silently -the woeful ballads -the hopeless delights, I bring with myself every time I come to thee. Like a thirsty to a well, a bee to a blossoming flower, or the moon to the ocean; I come to you only to quench my thirst, my hunger, my desire. But you are always kind to take me back into your grace. And this fair grace of yours is more graceful than all graces.

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