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A few light taps upon the pane made him turn to the window. It had begun to snow again. He watched sleepily the flakes, silver and dark, falling obliquely against the lamplight. The time had come for him to set out on his journey westward.
—James Joyce, The Dead
A few more taps on the pane and Dr. Tulp and his six colleagues arrive. The table is set for eight and dinner is served. Tap, tap, the final guest arrives. Plates are stacked, knives are sharpened, the goat has been prepared and candles are lit as the cadaver from the anatomy lesson is left alone in the darkened room. His wound will never heal.
—Ed Fraga, Tabula Rasa
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