What am I, Life? A thing of watery salt held in cohesion by unresting cells. Which work they know not why, which never halt, myself unwitting where their Master dwells?
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I must go down to the sea again, to the lonely sea and the sky; and all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by.
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Commonplace people dislike tragedy because they dare not suffer and cannot exult.
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