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Oliver Goldsmith

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As some tall cliff that lifts its awful form,
Swells from the vale, and midway leaves the storm,—
Though round its breast the rolling clouds are spread,
Eternal sunshine settles on its head.
--
Line 189.

 
Oliver Goldsmith

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Do I have a body? Or have I none?
Am I who I am? Or am I not?
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Storm clouds of terror and dictatorship are gathering over the whole country... They must not be allowed to bring eternal night.

 
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The god looked out upon the troubled deep
Waked into tumult from its placid sleep;
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No gilded dome swells from the lowly roof to catch the morning or evening beam; but the love and gratitude of united America settle upon it in one eternal sunshine. From beneath that humble roof went forth the intrepid and unselfish warrior, the magistrate who knew no glory but his country’s good; to that he returned, happiest when his work was done. There he lived in noble simplicity, there he died in glory and peace. While it stands, the latest generations of the grateful children of America will make this pilgrimage to it as to a shrine; and when it shall fall, if fall it must, the memory and the name of Washington shall shed an eternal glory on the spot.

 
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