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— Martin Farquhar Tupper"Hate furroweth the brow; and a man may frown till he hateth."
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The god we now behold with opened eyes, A herd of spotted panthers round him lies In glaring forms; the grapy clusters spread On his fair brows, and dangle on his head.
— Ovid
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Thoughts! what are they? They are my constant friends, who, when harsh fate its dull brow bends, uncloud me with a smiling ray, and in the depth of midnight force a day.
— Thomas Flatman
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