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The hopes that, in my own heart sown,And cherished by such sun and rain,As Joy and transient Sorrow shed,Have ripened to a harvest there:

~ Charlotte Brontë ~

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The hopes that, in my own heart sown,And cherished by such sun and rain,As Joy and transient Sorrow ...

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God surely did not create us, and cause us to live, with the sole end of wishing always to die. I believe, in my heart, we were intended to prize life...

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