Here dead lie we because we did not choose to live and shame the land from which we sprung. Life, to be sure, is nothing much to lose; but young men think it is, and we were young.
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If a line of poetry strays into my memory, my skin bristles so that the razor ceases to act.
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Experience has taught me, when I am shaving of a morning, to keep watch over my thoughts, because, if a line of poetry strays into my memory, my skin bristles so that the razor ceases to act.
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Who made the world I cannot tell; 'Tis made, and here am I in hell. My hand, though now my knuckles bleed, I never soiled with such a deed.
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I find Cambridge an asylum, in every sense of the word.
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The laws of God, the laws of man he may keep that will and can; not I: let God and man decree laws for themselves and not for me.
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I find Cambridge an asylum, in every sense of the word.
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The troubles of our proud and angry dust are from eternity, and shall not fail. Bear them we can, and if we can we must. Shoulder the sky, my lad, and drink your ale.