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Last night I wanted to take a sleeping pill, and then, I thought if I took more, I would sleep better. And if I took the lot, I would sleep without dreaming, without waking up. I wanted death. Yes, oh yes, like a sledgehammer. But I did dream. I dreamt the truth. And then I woke up suddenly and I was so pleased it was only a nightmare, and then when I realized it wasn't a nightmare, it was the truth, I was alone, and your arm was not around me, and my head was not on your shoulder. I felt I couldn't live. I simply couldn't live.
— The Human Voice
(other)
by Jean Cocteau
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