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We love life if we find a way to it.
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The world is a blurred version of itself—
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The great thing
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Where are the songs of spring? Ay, Where are they?
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You must not grieve that the world is glimpsed
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the mountain magnets tugged at us
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Under my head till morning; but the rain
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They should have taught us birds and trees
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Some say the best thing you can do
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There are witnesses to Africa’s