"It was a dream, not a nightmare, a beautiful dream I could never imagine in a thousand nods. There was a girl next to me who wasn't beautiful until she smiled and I felt that smile come at me in heat waves following, soaking through my body and out my finger tips in shafts of color and I knew somewhere in the world, somewhere, that there was love for me."
"Conscience is no more than the dead speaking to us."
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Source: Jim Carroll (1998). “Void of course: poems 1994-1997”, Penguin Group USA
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