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There is satiety in all things, in sleep, and love-making, in the loveliness of singing and the innocent dance.
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All my life I've been an obese man trapped inside a fat man's body.
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My wife's not some doobie to be passed around! I took a vow on our wedding day to bogart her for life.
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All the survivors of the war had reached their homes and so put the perils of battle and the sea behind them.
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It is not strength, but art, obtains the prize, And to be swift is less than to be wise.
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To heal divisions, to relieve the oppress'd, In virtue rich; in blessing others, bless'd.
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Why so much grief for me? No man will hurl me down to Death, against my fate. And fate? No one alive has ever escaped it, neither brave man nor coward, I tell you - it’s born with us the day that we are born.
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Jove lifts the golden balances that show The fates of mortal men, and things below.
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Oh, my tattered rags are caught on your coffee table.
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Nothing in the world is so incontinent as a man's accursed appetite.
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A generous friendship no cold medium knows, Burns with one love, with one resentment glows; One should our interests and our passions be, My friend must hate the man that injures me.
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By Jove the stranger and the poor are sent, and what to those we give, to Jove is lent.
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I'm not a bath man myself. More of a cologne man.
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Out of sight, out of mind.
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The best things beyond their measure cloy.
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I want answers now or I want them eventually!
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Sinks my sad soul with sorrow to the grave.
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'Yea and I beheld Sisyphus in strong torment, grasping a monstrous stone with both his hands. He was pressing thereat with hands and feet, and trying to roll the stone upward toward the brow of the hill. But oft as he was about to hurl it over the top, the weight would drive him back, so once again to the plain rolled the stone, the shameless thing. And he once more kept heaving and straining, and the sweat the while was pouring down his limbs, and the dust rose upwards from his head.