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I do not live happily or comfortably With the cleverness of our times. The talk is all about computers, The news is all about bombs and blood. This morning, in the fresh field, I came upon a hidden nest. It held four warm, speckled eggs. I touched them. Then went away softly, Having felt something more wonderful Than all the electricity of New York City.
— Mary Oliver
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There are two times of the year that stir the blood. In the fall, for the hunt, and now for lacrosse.
— Oren Lyons
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