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Space. The continual becoming: invisible fountain from which all rhythms flow and to which they must pass. Beyond time or infinity
— Frank Lloyd Wright
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Weep not for me. Rather let your tears flow for the sorrows of the multitude. My work is done. Like a ripe fruit I admit the gathering. Death has no terrors for it is a wise law of nature. I am ready whenever the summons may come.
— Lucretia Mott
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