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If our inward griefs were seen written on our brow, how many would be pitied who are now envied! [It., Se a ciascun l'interno affanno Si leggesse in fronte scritto, Quanti mai, che invidia fanno, Ci farebbero pieta!].
— Pietro Metastasio
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Sudden a thought came like a full-blown rose, Flushing his brow.
— John Keats
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