A certain portion of the human race has certainly a taste for being diddled.
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A moment's thinking is an hour in words.
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But evil is wrought by want of thought as well as want of heart!
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Gold! Gold! Gold! Bright and yellow, hard and cold.
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I remember, I remember The roses, red and white, The violets, and the lily-cups, Those flowers made of light! The lilacs, where the robin built, And where my brother set The laburmum on his birthday,- The tree is living yet.
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My books kept me from the ring, the dog-pit, the tavern, and the saloon.
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Oh, God! that bread should be so dear! And flesh and blood so cheap!
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