𝗟𝗢𝗚𝗜𝗖 𝗝.


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𝗝𝗢𝗛𝗡 : There are fragrant acres where @RogueJohn comes long hours late and the still unmoving air cools the fevered hands of fate. Meadows where the afternoon hangs suspended in a flower and the moments of our dorm drift upon a weightless hour.

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ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ 𝗫𝗫𝗫𝗜𝗜𝗜. 𝗦𝗜𝗠𝗣𝗟𝗜𝗖𝗜𝗧𝗬

How happy is the little stone that rambles in the road alone. And doesn't care about careers, and exigencies never fears ; Whose coat of elemental brown a passing universe put on ; and independent as the sun, associates or glows alone.




ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ 𝗫𝗜. 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗢𝗨𝗧𝗟𝗘𝗧

ㅤMy river runs to thee : Blue sea, wilt
ㅤwelcome me? My riger waits reply.
ㅤOh sea, look graciously.
ㅤI'll fetch thee brooks from spotted
ㅤnooks. Say, sea, take me.




ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ 𝗫𝗜𝗩. 𝗔𝗦𝗣𝗜𝗥𝗔𝗧𝗜𝗢𝗡

ㅤWe never know high we are till we are called to rise ⍮ And then, if we are true to plan, our statures touch the skies.

ㅤThe heroism we recite would be a daily thing, did not ourselves the cubits warp for fear to be a king.




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ㅤㅤㅤㅤ 𝗫𝗖𝗩. 𝗜𝗡𝗩𝗜𝗖𝗧𝗨𝗦 𝗢𝗙 𝗗𝗘𝗭𝗠𝗔𝗡

ㅤOut of the night that covers me, black as the pit from pole to pole, i thank whatever gods may be for my unconquerable soul.

ㅤIn the fell clutch of circumstance, i have not winced nor cried aloud. Under the bludgeonings of chance my head is bloody, but unbowed.

ㅤBeyond this place of wrath and tears looms but the horror of the shade, and yet the manace of the years finds, and shall find, me unafraid.

ㅤIt matters not how strait the gate, how changed with punishments the scroll. I am the master of my fate. I am the captain of my soul.

— 𝖂iliam 𝕰𝖗nest 𝕳𝖊𝖓ley.

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