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Till I, high in the tower of my time Among familiar ruins, began to cry For accident, sickness, justice, war and crime, Because all died, because I had to die. The snow fell, the trees stood, the promise kept, And a child I slept.
— Howard Nemerov
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Histhry is a post-mortem examination. It tellsye what a counthry died iv. But I'd like to know what it lived iv.
— Finley Peter Dunne
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