Gosse were you born, and Gosse will you remain to your death. It got on my nerves—the women I saw. \"I'll meet you at your locker after school. I did not care—no woman really cares—to play the beggar maid to your King Cophetua. "Oh, lud! what's that?" exclaimed a female voice, from an adjoining room. But how long would she last, withering away to a desiccated pile of skin and bone? Round and round she would go. The sounds that reach the ear, and the objects that meet the eye, are all calculated to awaken a train of sad and serious contemplation. He did not write this with lead but with his heart's blood.
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