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There rise her timeless capitals of empires daily born, whose plinths are laid at midnight and whose streets are packed at morn; and here come tired youths and maids that feign to love or sin in tones like rusty razor blades to tunes like smitten tin.
— Rudyard Kipling
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In creating, the only hard thing is to begin: a grass blade's no easier to make than an oak.
— James Russell Lowell
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