The Exorcist, pg 49 - William Peter Blatty
He went to the bathroom. Yellowing newspaper spread on the tile. Stains of rust in the tub and the sink. On the floor, an old corset. These the seeds of vocation. From these he had fled into love, but now the love had grown cold. In the night, he heard it whistling through the chambers of his heart like a lost and gently crying wind.
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