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Who,
if
I
cried
out,
would
hear
me
among
the
angels'
hierarchies?
And
even
if
one
of
them
pressed
me
suddenly
against
his
heart:
I
would
be
consumed
in
that
overwhelming
existence.
For
beauty
is
nothing
but
the
beginning
of
terror,
which
we
still
are
just
able
to
endure,
and
we
are
so
awed
because
it
serenely
disdains
to
annihilate
us.
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