Mention477959
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so:text | Sometimes at dusk, when you were trying to relax and not think of the general stagnation, the Garbage God would gather a handful of those choked-off morning hopes and dangle them somewhere just out of reach; they would hang in the breeze and make a sound like delicate glass bells, reminding you of something you never quite got hold of, and never would. (en) |
so:isPartOf | https://en.wikiquote.org/wiki/Hunter_S._Thompson |
so:description | The Rum Diary (1998) (en) |
so:description | 1990s (en) |
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qkg:Quotation452972 | qkg:hasMention |
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