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— Oscar Wilde"Poor? What does that matter? When poverty creeps in at the door, love flies in through the window."
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But like infection is the petty thought: it creeps and hides, and wants to be nowhere--until the whole body is decayed and withered by the petty infection... Thus spoke Zarathustra.
— Friedrich Nietzsche
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Death and loss, they plague you. So do memories. Like the Mississippi's incessant slap against the levees, they creep up with deceptive sweetness before grabbing your heart and pulling it under.
— Karen White
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