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Ian Kabra rolled up his window. "My god, what's that smell?" Behind the wheel, Sinead laughed. "It's called fresh air. Growing up in London, you've probably never breathed it before. " "And I hope I never breathe it again.

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Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn

For a country to have a great writer is like having a second government. That is why no regime has ever loved great writers, only minor ones.