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Holy cannoli!
But as the riper should by time decease, his tender heir might bear his memory
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No time to waste
Within thine own bud buriest thy content and, tender churl, makest waste in niggarding
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Supercool!
Making a famine where abundance lies, thyself thy foe, to thy sweet self too cruel
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Did you know that...
Thou that art now the world's fresh ornament and only herald to the gaudy spring
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