A stranger, mute, through mists that curled,in beauty clad not of this world,came to her, leaned above her pillow;and in his glance was such a billow,of love and grief, that you’d inferall his compassion was for her. ― Mikhail Lermontov, Demon

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A stranger, mute, through mists that curled,in beauty clad not of this world,came to her, leaned above her pillow;and in his glance was such a billow,of love and grief, that you'd inferall his compassion was for her.
― Mikhail Lermontov,
Demon
A stranger, mute, through mists that curled,in beauty clad not of this world,came to her, leaned above her pillow;and in his glance was such a billow,of love and grief, that you'd inferall his compassion was for her. ― Mikhail Lermontov, Demon

A stranger, mute, through mists that curled,in beauty clad not of this world,came to her, leaned above her pillow;and in his glance was such a billow,of love and grief, that you’d inferall his compassion was for her.
― Mikhail Lermontov,

Demon

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