David:
Look on my works. ye Mighty, and despair.
Walter:
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay. Of that colossal Wreck, boundless and bare. The lone and level sands stretch far away.
David:
Byron. 1818. Magnificent. To compose something so majestic, one could die happy... if one died.
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05/03/2025 alle ore 08:21
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