When a Wanderess has been caged, or perched with her wings clipped, She lives like a Stoic, She lives most heroic, smiling with ruby, moistened lips once her cup of Death is welcome sipped.
A writer who is afraid to overreach himself is as useless as a general who is afraid to be wrong.
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A writer who is afraid to overreach himself is as useless as a general who is afraid to be wrong.
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