‘I do not believe you. But, not daring to confess his want of comprehension, he made a profound reverence, and retired. I have often felt before that it is only when one has nothing to say that one can write easy poetry. Her heartbeat raced, her limbs turned to water, and it was only by a miracle and the strength of the arms that held her that she remained standing on her feet. If I am to die in the attempt, then so be it.
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