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wonder if this compass will ever change.
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Sooner or later
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Better to discourage the future by making no plans.
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“Hotel of earth, where we resided for some years together,”
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Suppose I say summer,
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oh you who are never the same
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What of the little phrase? Its notes, like leaves
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I love you as the plant that doesn’t bloom but carries
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Who can now tell what was taken, or where,
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Built to say at least. Built to reach for the heat