'You're just a mirage,' Kovrin murmured... 'Never mind' the monk answered softly after a brief pause, turning his face towards him. 'The legend, myself, the mirage are all products of your overheated imagination. I'm an apparition...' 'That means you don't exist?' Kovrin asked. 'Think what you like,' the monk said with a weak smile 'I exist in your imagination, and your imagination is part of nature, so I exist in nature too.' The Black Monk - Anton Chekov
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