Retirement at sixty-five is ridiculous. When I was sixty-five I still had pimples.
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Yes, and I had pimples so badly it used to make me so shy. I used not to look at myself. I'd hide my face in the dark, I wouldn't want to look in the mirror and my father teased me and I just hated it and I cried everyday.
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I had plenty of pimples as a kid. One day I fell asleep in the library. When I woke up, a blind man was reading my face.
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Chastity always takes its toll. In some it produces pimples; in others, sex laws.
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Mr. Lely, I desire you would use all your skill to paint my picture truly like me, and not flatter me at all; but remark all these roughnesses, pimples, warts, and everything as you see me, otherwise I will never pay a farthing for it.
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