Time had not faded my memories {as I had prayed to God it might}, nor had it healed my wounds as it is said always to do. I began each day with the hope that the next day would be better, my recollections a little less pointed, but I would awake to the same pain, as if a black lamp were burning eternally inside me, radiating darkness.
( Orhan Pamuk )
[ The Museum of Innocence ]
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