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its ramos
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There is a pleasure in the pathless woods, There is a rapture on the lonely shore, There is society, where none intrudes..
How pure, how dear their dwelling place... Borne, like thy leaves, onward; from a boy... And laid my hand upon thy mane - as i do
i love you
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Will someone please call the surgeon who can crack my ribs and repair this broken heart?
welcome to devART
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speak the truth
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