It spurs me working up my english literature well. I am miles behind the others. I have no good feeling upon this subject. But I must overcome it. I hate the cowardice of dodging the difficulty I can get over.
Good night.
He was my North, my South, my East and West, My working week and my Sunday rest, My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song; I thought that love would last for ever: I was wrong. The stars are not wanted now: put out every one; Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun; Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood. For nothing now can ever come to any good.
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