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A poet is a nightingale, who sits in darkness and sings to cheer its own solitude with sweet sounds.
— Percy Bysshe Shelley
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I think that I cannot preserve my health and spirits, unless I spend four hours a day at least - and it is commonly more than that - sauntering through the woods and over the hills and fields, absolutely free from all worldly engagements.
— Henry David Thoreau
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