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Poem by Ben Jonson
Walking, snow falling, it is possible to focus at various distances in turn on separate flakes, sharply engage the attention at several spatial points: the nearer cold and more uncomfortable, the farther distanced and almost pleasing. Living, time passing, it is preferable to focus the memory in turn upon the more distant retrospects in order that the present mind may retain its peace. Yet knowing that seeing and remembering are both of course personal illusions.
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