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| My river runs to thee. Blue sea, wilt thou welcome me? My river awaits reply. Oh! sea, look graciously. I'll fetch thee brooks | 
| Love is, above all, the gift of oneself. - Jean Anouilh, When I am 
					sad and weary. When I think all hope has gone.  Those have most power to hurt us that we love. - Francis Beaumont | 
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