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She was not quite what you would call refined. She was not quite what you would call unrefined. She was the kind of person that keeps a parrot.
— Mark Twain
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There are joys which long to be ours. God sends ten thousands truths, which come about us like birds seeking inlet; but we are shut up to them, and so they bring us nothing, but sit and sing awhile upon the roof, and then fly away.
— Henry Ward Beecher
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