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Under the harvest moon, <br>When the soft silver <br>Drips shimmering <br>Over the garden nights, <br>Death, the gray mocker, <br>Comes and whispers to you <br>As a beautiful friend <br>Who remembers.

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I see America, not in the setting sun of a black night of despair ahead of us, I see America in the crimson light of a rising sun fresh from the burning, creative hand of God. I see great days ahead, great days possible to men and women of will and vision.

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When one has the right swing and enthusiasm, selling is not unlike hunting, a veritable sport. To scare up the game by preliminary talk and to know how long to follow it, to lose your gain through poorly directed argument, to hang on to game that finally eludes, to boldly confront, to quickly circle around, to keep on the trail, tireless and keen, till you have bagged some orders, there is some satisfaction in returning at night, tired of the trail, but proud of the days work done.

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Can anything compare to the sight of the first yellow violets blooming along a woodland path? These most fragile of plants are yet hardy enough to bloom when nights are still frosty and snow still lingers in the ravines.

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The Yardbirds came in to the Crawdaddy Club a week after the Stones finished their Sunday night residency. They had done it for almost a year, I think, and then we did it for a year. It was better when they were playing there because when they went they took half the crowd with them and it took us quite a while to build up our own following.

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Would you know my name If I saw you in heaven Will it be the same If I saw you in heaven I must be strong, and carry on Cause I know I don’t belong Here in heaven Would you hold my hand If I saw you in heaven Would you help me stand If I saw you in heaven I’ll find my way, through night and day Cause I know I just can’t stay Here in heaven

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A lot of the reason my look is the way it is, is because it’s really easy to put on a sundress every night if I<br> have to perform – or just wear jeans every day and a flannel or something.

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I hear the birds on the summer breeze, I drive fast I am alone in the night Been trying hard not to get into trouble, but I I’ve got a war in my mind So, I just ride

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The candle glimmers but an hour. The night<br>Looms in its ancient hunger. Would you know<br>The tragedy of human love and need?<br>Gaze on the stars, then on a brother’s face!

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Being a homicide detective ca be the loneliest job in the world. The friends of the victim are upset and in despair, but sooner or later – after weeks or months – they go back to their everyday lives. For the closest family it takes longer, but for the most part, to some degree, they too get over the grieving and despair. Life has to go on; it does go on. But the unsolved murders keep gnawing away and in the end there’s only one person left who thinks night and day about the victim: it’s the office who is left with the investigation.

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I don’t think Americans realize the degree to which they are the main subject of Russian television news. Every night there’s news from the United States and scandals about the United States, and every night the United States is shown to be an enemy of Russia over and over and over again. And this is, of course, useful to the Russian president, because it’s, we have this big and important enemy – you need me here to fight back.

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Adrenaline kicks you in when you’re starving. That’s what nobody understands. Except for being hungry and cold, most of the time I feel like I can do anything. It gives me superhuman powers of smell and hearing. I can see what people are thinking, stay two steps ahead of them. I do enough homework to stay off the radar. Every night I climb thousands of steps into the sky to make me so exhausted that when I fall into bed, I don’t notice Cassie. Then suddenly it’s morning and I leap on the hamster wheel and it starts all over again.

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A lily of a day <br>Is fairer far in May, <br>Although it fall and die that night, <br>It was the plant and flower of light. <br>In small proportions we just beauties see, <br>And in short measures life may perfect be.

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The kids are saying ‘Make Love, Not War’,<br>and I’m beginning to think they’re right.<br>For war costs millions of dollars a day,<br>and love–just a few bucks a night!

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I usually dream of melodies. When I wake up I have them in my head. I usually come up with things in the middle of the night because that’s when my mind is the quietest. I always have my tape recorder, pen and pad by my bed just in case.

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You want hot days to get your fruit ripe but then you want it to cool off nicely at night so that the grapes stay on the vine longer and develop complexity.