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A lake carries you into recesses of feeling otherwise impenetrable.
~William Wordsworth
Fill your paper with the breathings of your heart.
~William Wordsworth
I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o’er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.
– William Wordsworth, Daffodils
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