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Freely we serve Because we freely love, as in our will To love or not; in this we stand or fall. ---John Milton
Our quaint metaphysical opinions, in an hour of anguish, are like playthings by the bedside of a child deadly sick. -----Samuel Taylor Coleridge, Coleridge's Notebooks: A Selection
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Living toys are something novel, But it soon wears off somehow. ---Philip Larkin
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. . . obedience, Bane of all genius, virtue, freedom, truth, Makes slaves of men, and, of the human frame, A mechanized automaton. ----Percy Bysshe Shelley
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Toleration is a herb of spontaneous growth in the Soil of Indifference; but the weed has none of the virtues of the medicinal plant, reared by Humility in the Garden of Zeal. ----Samuel Taylor Coleridge
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Our own heart, and not other men's opinions, forms our true honor. ---Samuel Taylor Coleridge
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Life is but a day; A fragile dew-drop on its perilous way From a tree's summit. ---John Keats
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***What are days for? Days are where we live. They come, they wake us Time and time over. They are to be happy in: Where can we live but days?
Ah, solving that question Brings the priest and the doctor In their long coats Running over the fields.*** ---Philip Larkin, Collected Poems
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