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I would walk with all those who walk. I would not stand still to watch the procession passing by.
You owe more than gold to him who serves you. Give him of your heart or serve him.
Nay, we have not lived in vain. Have they not built towers of our bones?
Let us not be particular and sectional. The poet’s mind and the scorpion’s tail rise in glory from the same earth.
Every dragon gives birth to a St. George who slays it.
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