Every night and every morn, some to misery are born. Every morn and every night, some are born to sweet delight. Some are born to sweet delight; some are born to endless night.
More from Dead Man
Nobody The eagle never lost so much time as when he submitted to learn from the crow.
Nobody That weapon will replace your tongue. You will learn to speak through it. And your poetry will now be written with blood.
Nobody Don't let the sun burn a hole in your ass, William Blake. Rise now, and drive your cart and plough over the bones of the dead!
Dead Man
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