The stormy March has come at last, With wind, and cloud, and changing skies; I hear the rushing of the blast, That through the snowy valley flies.
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The right to discuss freely and openly, by speech, by the pen, by the press, all political questions, and to examine and animadvert (speak out) upon all political institutions, is a right so clear and certain, so interwoven with our other liberties, so necessary, in fact to their existence, that without it we must fall at once into depression or anarchy. To say that he who holds unpopular opinions must hold them at the peril of his life, and that, if he expresses them in public, he has only himself to blame if they who disagree with him should rise and put him to death, is to strike at all rights, all liberties, all protection of the laws, and to justify and extenuate all crimes.
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The summer day is closed - the sun is set: Well they have done their office, those bright hours, The latest of whose train goes softly out In the red west. The green blade of the ground Has risen, and herds have cropped it; the young twig Has spread its plaited tissues to the sun; Flowers of the garden and the waste have blown And withered; seeds have fallen upon the soil, From bursting cells, and in their graves await Their resurrection. Insects from the pools Have filled the air awhile with humming wings, That now are still for ever; painted moths Have wandered the blue sky, and died again
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The blacks of this region are a cheerful, careless, dirty, race, not hard worked, and in many respects indulgently treated. It is of course the desire of the master that his slaves shall be laborious; on the other hand it is the determination of the slave to lead as easy a life as he can. The master has the power of punishment on his side; the slave, on his, has invincible inclination, and a thousand expedients learned by long practice... Good natured though imperfect and slovenly obedience on one side, is purchased by good treatment on the other.
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The melancholy days are come, the saddest of the year, Of wailing winds and naked woods and meadows brown and sere. Heaped in the hollows of the grove, the autumn leaves lie dead; They rustle to the eddying gust, and to the rabbit
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The sad and solemn night hath yet her multitude of cheerful fires; The glorious host of light walk the dark hemisphere till she retires; All through her silent watches, gliding slow, Her constellations come, and climb the heavens, and go.
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The praise of those who sleep in earth,The pleasant memory of their worth,The hope to meet when life is past,Shall heal the tortured mind at last.
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Glorious are the woods in their latest gold and crimson, Yet our full-leaved willows are in the freshest green. Such a kindly autumn, so mercifully dealing With the growths of summer, I never yet have seen.
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Gaze on them, till the tears shall dim thy sight, But keep that earlier, wilder image bright.
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Remorse is virtue's root; its fair increase are fruits of innocence and blessedness.
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Difficulty, my brethren, is the nurse of greatness-a harsh nurse, who roughly rocks her foster-children into strength and athletic proportion.
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Summer wanes; the children are grown;Fun and frolic no more he knows. . . .
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He's such a quiet kid. That was the most emotion we've seen out of him all year. I think he was waiting for this moment to go in and compete against Shaquille. I had the same thing when I first came into the league (in 1996) and competed against Michael (Jordan).
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So gentle and so beautiful, should perish with the flowers.
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Go forth under the open sky, and list To Nature's teachings.
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I shall see The hour of death draw near to me, Hope, blossoming within my heart,
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Another hand thy sword shall wield, Another hand the standard wave,...
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And we wept that one so lovely should have a life so brief. . . .
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Thine eyes shall see the light of distant skies: Yet, Cole! thy heart shall bear to Europe's strand...
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If anything goes bad, I did it. If anything goes semi-good, we did it. If anything goes really good, then you did it. That's all it takes to get people to win football games for you.
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It made me feel good, yeah, because we've been through so many wars together. And it feels good to kind of be able to enjoy ... the sweetness of it. And now to be able to move on, for the organization to move on, the city to move on and to focus on building this team, (I) wish him all the best with his team down on South Beach.
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Eloquence is the poetry of prose.
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To him who in the love of Nature holds Communion with her visible forms, she speaks A various language.
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These struggling tides of life that seemIn wayward, aimless course to tend,Are eddies of the mighty streamThat rolls to its appointed end.
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I absolutely hate it. I just hate it. I don't want to hear any comparisons between me and him. Enough is enough. He had a brilliant career, obviously, one of the greatest careers ever, if not the greatest, and I'm here playing with my team and we're trying to do great things. Just let the past be the past. Just embrace what I'm doing. Stop trying to compare it to what he did. Just enjoy what's going on now.
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And then I think of one who in her youthful beauty died, The fair meek blossom that grew up and faded by my side,
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And wrath has left its scar -- that fire of hellHas left its frightful scar upon my soul.
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a real cool guy.
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The little windflower, whose just opened eye is blue as the spring heaven it gazes at.
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There's freedom at thy gates and rest For Earth's downtrodden and oppressed,
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