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This generation was richer only in illusions; in every other way it was similar to any other. It had the feeling of both lighting the fires of a new civilization and extinguishing the last flickers of another. Everything appeared as an exciting new game on that ancient bridge, which shone in the moonlight of those July nights, clean, young and unalterable, strong and lovely in its perfection, stronger than all that time might bring and man imagine or do. The Bridge on the Drina

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