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“His Labor is a Chant - his Idleness - a Tune - oh, for a Bee's experience of Clovers, and of Noon!”
Emily Dickinson

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More quotes by Emily Dickinson

Old age comes on suddenly, and not gradually as is thought.
Anger as soon as fed is dead - 'Tis starving makes it fat.
The possible's slow fuse is lit, by the Imagination.
To live is so startling it leaves little time for anything else.
How strange that nature does not knock, and yet does not intrude!

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