The morning rose up wonderful and bright. A thin mist still lay over the gravestones below and drifted to and fro. The treetops were already full of light. Out of the chimneys of the houses smoke was curling up. The first newspapers were being called through the streets. We lay down to a morning sleep, a waking sleep, dreaming on the borders of sleep, each in the arms of the other - wonderful hovering, breath in breath.
Erich Maria Remarque (Three Comrades)
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