A favorite has no friend!
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Alas! regardless of their doom, the little victims play! No sense have they of ills to come nor care beyond today.
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Commerce changes the fate and genius of nations.
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Each in his narrow cell for ever laid, the rude forefathers of the hamlet sleep.
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Poetry is thoughts that breathe, and words that burn.
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Sweet is the breath of vernal shower,The bee's collected treasures sweet,Sweet music's melting full, but sweeter yetThe still small voice of gratitude.
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The paths of glory lead but to the grave.
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Thought would destroy their paradise.
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Too poor for a bribe, and too proud to importune, he had not the method of making a fortune.
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Visions of glory, spare my aching sight...
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Where ignorance is bliss, 'Tis folly to be wise.
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Youth smiles without any reason. It is one of its chiefest charms.
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