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Who so loves believes the impossible.

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An ignorance of means may minister to greatness, but an ignorance of aims make it impossible to be great at all.

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God's gifts put man's best dreams to shame.

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My sun sets to raise again.

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The iron gate ground its teeth to let me pass!

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And each man stands with his face in the light. Of his own drawn sword, ready to do what a hero can.

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There, that is our secret: go to sleep! You will wake, and remember, and understand.

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Light tomorrow with today!

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Since when was genius found respectable?

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Earth's crammed with heaven, And every common bush afire with God; But only he who sees, takes off his shoes - The rest sit round it and pluck blackberries.

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Best be yourself, imperial, plain and true!

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Suddenly, as rare things will, it vanished.

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Somebody arranges the rows of cans...

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Remembering the Strait of Belle Isle or some northerly harbor of Labrador,...

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this cartoon by Raphael for a tapestry for a Pope:

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Time to plant tears, says the almanac. The grandmother sings to the marvellous stove and the child draws another inscrutable house.

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With crayons the child draws a rigid house and a winding pathway. Then the child puts in a man with buttons like tears

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His breast was deep and white, cold and caressable; his eyes were red glass, much to be desired.

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How had I come to be here, like them, and overhear a cry of pain that could have got loud and worse but hadn't?

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The roaring alongside he takes for granted, and that every so often the world is bound to shake....

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