At some point, even the greatest misery begins to fade. Life, or what passes for life, plods on in it's own unending weary footsteps, and somehow we plod along with it, if we stay lucky.
Life is a wave of love for a lover, a gift for a giver, a drama for an actor, and a canvas for a painter.
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Life is a wave of love for a lover, a gift for a giver, a drama for an actor, and a canvas for a painter.
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