“Another world is not only possible, she is on her way. Maybe many of us won’t be here to greet her, but on a quiet day, if I listen very carefully, I can hear her breathing.”
O Xerxes, son of the golden rain, mortal yet equal to the gods, you are the bow of war and its blind hand. Weep, O land of Asia— you who nourished them, now crawl upon them and weep, and let remorse consume you to theend.
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