Emily Dickinson
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For love is immortality.
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Love is anterior to life, posterior to death, initial of creation, and the exponent of breath.
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Morning without you is a dwindled dawn.
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How strange that nature does not knock, and yet does not intrude!
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To make a prairie it takes a clover and one bee, One clover, and a bee, And revery. The revery alone will do, If bees are few.