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  This is fortunate for they would burn you to an ash otherwise. Your petals would be quite curled up.

This is all beyond you—no doubt, yet you do feel the brushings of the fine needles; the tentative lines of your whole body prove it to me; so does your fear of me, your shyness; likewise the toy baby cart that you are pushing— and besides, mother has begun to dress your hair in a knot. These are my excuses. 

RIPOSTE

Love is like water or the air my townspeople; it cleanses, and dissipates evil gases. It is like poetry too and for the same reasons.

Love is so precious my townspeople that if I were you I would have it under lock and key— like the air or the Atlantic or like poetry! 