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I'm not talking about a "show me other walls of this thing" button, I mean a "stumble" button for wallbase.
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By all means sometimes be alone; salute thyself; see what thy soul doth wear; dare to look in thy chest; and tumble up and down what thou findest there.
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I, methought, while the sweet breath of heaven Was blowing on my body, felt within A correspondent breeze, that gently moved With quickening virtue, but is now become A tempest, a redundant energy, Vexing its own creation.
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Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting. Not in entire forgetfulness, and not in utter nakedness, but trailing clouds of glory do we come.
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Faith is, necessary to explain anything, and to reconcile the foreknowledge of God with human evil.
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How many undervalue the power of simplicity ! But it is the real key to the heart.
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The bosom-weight, your stubborn gift, That no philosophy can lift.
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Look for the stars, you'll say that there are none; / Look up a second time, and, one by one, / You mark them twinkling out with silvery light, / And wonder how they could elude the sight!
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Of friends, however humble, scorn not one.
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The first cuckoo's melancholy cry.
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Ah, what a warning for a thoughtless man, Could field or grove, could any spot of earth, Show to his eye an image of the pangs Which it hath witnessed,-render back an echo Of the sad steps by which it hath been trod!
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The budding rose above the rose full blown.
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Everything is tedious when one does not read with the feeling of the Author.
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The wind, a sightless laborer, whistles at his task.
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I travelled among unknown men, In lands beyond the sea; Nor England! did I know till then What love I bore to thee.
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Stay, little cheerful Robin! stay, And at my casement sing, Though it should prove a farewell lay And this our parting spring. * * * * * Then, little Bird, this boon confer, Come, and my requiem sing, Nor fail to be the harbinger Of everlasting spring.
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Through love, through hope, and faith's transcendent dower, We feel that we are greater than we know.
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And oft I thought (my fancy was-so strong) That I, at last, a resting-place had found: 'Here: will I dwell,' said I,' my whole life long, Roaming the illimitable waters round; Here will I live, of all but heaven disowned. And end my days upon the peaceful flood - To break my dream the vessel reached its bound; And homeless near a thousand homes I stood, And near a thousand tables pined and wanted food.
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These hoards of wealth you can unlock at will.
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But who would force the soul tilts with a straw Against a champion cased in adamant
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Look at the fate of summer flowers, which blow at daybreak, droop ere even-song.
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The Poet, gentle creature as he is, Hath, like the Lover, his unruly times; His fits when he is neither sick nor well, Though no distress be near him but his own Unmanageable thoughts.
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He spake of love, such love as spirits feel In worlds whose course is equable and pure; No fears to beat away, no strife to heal,- The past unsighed for, and the future sure.
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Golf is a day spent in a round of strenuous idleness.