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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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