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Out of the rhythm and sound of the sea that beat through the orchestra, something moved--pressing toward death with quiet insistent joy--the thread through the maze--the soul behind the toil and the crime and longing.
— Jeanette Lee
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If ever I am a mother I will zealously strive against this crime of over- indulgence. I can hardly give it a milder name when I think of the evils it brings.
— Anne Bronte
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