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Bless each thing on earth until it sickens,
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I’ll walk where my own nature would be leading:
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We add to ourselves or detract whenever we speak.
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There is, said Pythagoras, a sound
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We’ve been fooled into thousands of dualisms
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O world! I’ve loved you ever since
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thinking it, wrongly, / a thing attainable, any real end
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We are running on Aztec time,
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Compass, quadrant and sextant contrive
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Refugees sit up
