Quotes 21 till 27 of 27.
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The delicate thought, that cannot find expression, For ruder speech too fair, That, like thy petals, trembles in possession, And scatters on the air.
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The only sure thing about luck is that it will change.
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There was commotion in Roaring Camp. It could not have been a fight, for in 1850 that was not novel enough to have called together the entire settlement.
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They were left in the lurch For want of more wadding — He ran to the church — ... With his arms full of hymnbooks... Rang his voice, Put Watts into 'em — Boys, give 'em Watts.
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We begin to die as soon as we are born, and the end is linked to the beginning.
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Which I wish to remark, And my language is plain, That for ways that are dark And for tricks that are vain, The heathen Chinee is peculiar.
The Heathen Chinee (1870) -
Your voices break and falter in the darkness, — Break, falter, and are still.
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