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I sit beside the fire and think of athat I have seen, of meadow-flowers and butterflies in summers that have been......But all the while I sit and think of times there were before, I listen for returning feet and voices at the door.
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That one makes me cry [img]smilies/frown.gif[/img]
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Tout ce qui est or ne brille pas,
Tous ceux qui errent ne sont pas perdus.
Mobilis in Mobile
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