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Eternity forbids thee to forget.
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The light of love, the purity of grace, The mind, the Music breathing from her face, The heart whose softness harmonised the whole — And, oh! that eye was in itself a Soul!
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Exhausting thought, And hiving wisdom with each studious year.
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There are some feelings time cannot benumb, Nor torture shake.
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Switzerland is a curst, selfish, swinish country of brutes, placed in the most romantic region of the world.
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Ye stars! which are the poetry of heaven!
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It is when we think we lead that we are most led.
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Every day confirms my opinion on the superiority of a vicious life, and if Virtue is not its own reward, I don't know any other stipend annexed to it.
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The 'good old times' - all times when old are good -Are gone.
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Books, Manuals, Directives, Regulations. The geometries that circumscribe your working life draw norrower and norrower until nothing fits inside them anymore.
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Oh who can tell, save he whose heart hath tried.
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What deep wounds ever closed without a scar?
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Age shakes Athena's tower, but spares gray Marathon.
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Where there is mystery, it is generally suspected there must also be evil.
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From the mingled strength of shade and light A new creation rises to my sight, Such heav'nly figures from his pencil flow, So warm with light his blended colors glow. . . . . The glowing portraits, fresh from life, that bring Home to our hearts the truth from which they spring.
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I've seen your stormy seas and stormy women, And pity lovers rather more than seamen.
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With flowing tail and flying mane, Wide nostrils never stretched by pain, Mouth bloodless to bit or rein, And feet that iron never shod, And flanks unscar'd by spur or rod, A thousand horses - the wild - the free - Like waves that follow o'er the sea, Came thickly thundering on.
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A bargain is in its very essence a hostile transaction do not all men try to abate the price of all they buy? I contend that a bargain even between brethren is a declaration of war.
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So much alarmed that she is quite alarming...
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Till taught by pain, men know not water's worth.
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Religion-freedom-vengeance-what you will, A word's enough to raise mankind to kill.
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The poor dog, in life the firmest friend, The first to welcome, foremost to defend, Whose honest heart is still the master's own, Who labours, fights, lives, breathes for him alone, Unhonour'd falls, unnoticed all his worth, Denied in heaven the soul he held on earth, While man, vain insect hopes to be forgiven, And claims himself a sole exclusive heaven.
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Sorrow preys upon Its solitude, and nothing more diverts it From its sad visions of the other world Than calling it at moments back to this. The busy have no time for tears.
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Time strips our illusions of their hue, And one by one in turn, some grand mistake Casts off its bright skin yearly like the snake.