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| O,
            hurry, where by water, among the trees, The delicate-stepping stag and his lady sigh, When they have looked upon their images Would none had ever loved but you and I! Or
            have you heard that sliding silver-shoed O
            hurry to the ragged wood, for there | 
| 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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| Last updated 18 April 2010 Copyright © Paul Ward 2000 - 2010 | 
| 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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