The walls of books around him, dense with the past, formed a kind of insulation against the present world and its disasters.

Ross MacDonald

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I Love Paris
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Every time I look down on this timeless town
Whether blue or gray be her skies
Whether loud be her cheers, or whether soft be her tears
More and more do I realize that
I love Paris in the spring time
I love Paris in the fall
I love Paris in the summer when it sizzles
I love Paris in the winter when it drizzles
 
I love Paris every moment
Every moment of the year
I love Paris
Why, oh, why do I love Paris?
Because my love is here