t and curious volume of forgotten lore,while i nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping.”
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“as of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door—‘tis some visitor,’ i muttered, ‘tapping at my chamber door—only this and nothing more.’”
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(从前一个阴郁的子夜,我独自沉思,慵懒疲竭,沉思许多古怪而离奇、早已被人遗忘的传闻——当我开始打盹,几乎入睡,突然传来一阵轻擂, 仿佛有人在轻轻叩击,轻轻叩击我的房门—— “有人来了,”我轻声嘟喃,“正在叩击我的房门,唯此而已,别无他般。” )
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和在课堂上出了名的严厉相反,给管锌念诗的时候和风细雨的。管锌反过身来,面对着靖岳的腹部,闻他身上的t恤的味道,双手松松紧紧地抱。他知道《leaves of grass》还在书架上,也知道靖岳念的是edgar allan poe的《the raven》(埃德加·爱伦·坡的《乌鸦》)。
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--
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then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer,swung by seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor.
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"wretch," i cried, "thy god hath lent thee—by these angels he hath sent thee,respite—respite andnepenthe, from thy memories of lenore;
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