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Life... is a paradise to what we fear of death. William Shakespeare, Measure for Measure
Let therefore nought that great is, therein glorie, / Sith so small thing his happiness may varie. Edmund Spenser, Complaints, Containing
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Till swollen with cunning, of a self-conceit, His waxen wings did mount above his reach, And, melting, Heavens conspir'd his overthrow. Christoper Marlowe, The Tragical History
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Sweet Thames, run softly till I end my song. Edmund Spenser
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