"My sun sets to rise again."
"And I have written three books on the soul, Proving absurd all written hitherto, And putting us to ignorance again."
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Source: 'Cleon' (1855) l. 57
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"Autumn wins you best by this its mute appeal to sympathy for its decay."
"Grow old with me! The best is yet to be."
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"Stung by the splendour of a sudden thought."
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