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My education [takes place] during the holidays from Eton.
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The artist, like the idiot, or clown, sits on the edge of the world, and a push may send him over it.
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Poetry is like fish: if it's fresh, it's good; if it's stale, it's bad; and if you're not certain, try it on the cat.
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In reality, killing time/" Is only the name for another of the multifarious ways By which Time kills us.
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It is fatal to be appreciated in one's own time.
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