“In time, Cress hoped to lose his fear of poetry, especially the stuff that didn’t rhyme. Cress was a facts man, and facts were stone. Poetry, though, was sand. Ever compared to stars in its granular infinity. Ever shifting.”
“In time, Cress hoped to lose his fear of poetry, especially the stuff that didn’t rhyme. Cress was a facts man, and facts were stone. Poetry, though, was sand. Ever compared to stars in its granular infinity. Ever shifting.”
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