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The Foreigner

-Who do you love most, enigmatic man, tell me: your father, your mother, your sister or brother?

- I do not have father nor mother nor sister nor brother.

- Friends?

- That's a word of which the meaning escapes me.

- Your homeland?

- I ignore its latitude.

- Beauty?

- I would love it, goddess and immortal, with all my heart if there was. 

- Gold?

- I hate it as much as you hate God.

- So who or what do you love, peculiar foreigner?

- I love the clouds...the clouds that pass...afar...the marvellous clouds!

by Charles Baudelaire (1821-1867) in "The Spleen of Paris"