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— Ella Wheeler Wilcox"Love is as bitter as the dregs of sin, As sweet as clover-honey in its cell; Love is the password whereby souls get in To Heaven--the gate that leads, sometimes, to Hell."
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This freedom of which men speak, for which they fight, seems to some people a perilous thing. It has to be earned at a bitter cost and then it has to be lived with. For freedom makes a huge requirement of every human being. With freedom comes responsibility.
— Eleanor Roosevelt
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Not the swart Pariah in some Indian grove, Lone, lean, and hunted by his brother's hate, Hath drunk so deep the cup of bitter fate As that poor wretch who cannot, cannot love: He bears a load which nothing can remove, A killing, withering weight.
— Percy Bysshe Shelley
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