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In his blue gardens men and girls came and went like moths among the whisperings and the champagne and the stars.
F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby

Here grows the cure of all, this fruit divine.
Fair to the eye, inviting to the taste.
Of virtue to make wise:
what hinders then to reach,
and feed at one both body and mind?
John Milton, Paradise Lost

Heaven's Window, Peter Kater

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