Title: Необов'язково

Text: I die strangely. It is not life that kills me. It is not death that kills me, nor is it love; I die of a thought, mute as a wound. Have you never felt such a strange pain of an immense thought that is rooted in life, devouring flesh and soul, and without blooming? Have you never carried inside a dormant star that was burning you wholly without shining? Кожен абзац буде тестом.

Save test: Використовуйте це, якщо ви хочете поділитися цим тестом на друкування (тільки для автентифікованих користувачів).