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Emily Dickinson
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held a jewel in my fingers And went to sleep The day was warm, and winds were prosy I said, "Twill keep" I
woke - and chide my honest fingers, |
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Love is, above all, the gift of oneself. - Jean Anouilh, When I am sad and
weary. When I think all hope has gone. Those have most power to hurt us that we love. - Francis Beaumont,
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