"I have learned that you're not perfect, and that sometimes the one you love can burn you. But it's just the fool that's looking backwards: a bitter heart turns the love we made to ashes."

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For it's home, dearie, home--it's home I want to be. Our topsails are hoisted, and we'll away to sea. O, the oak and the ash and the bonnie birken tree They're all growing green in the old countrie.

— William Ernest Henley