Gilbert Highet
Language is a living thing. We can feel it changing. Parts of it become old: they drop off and are forgotten. New pieces bud out, spread into leaves, and become big branches, proliferating.
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I love you - I am at rest with you...Beauty is in the eye of the beer holder...I know for my wife and I, we always loved...Nature herself...I can accept failure, everyone fails at something...I allow myself to fail. I allow myself to break...
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