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I had not thought of violets of late, The wild, shy kind that springs beneath your feet In wistful April days."
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"I sit and sew -- a useless task it seems, My hands grown tired, my head weighed down with dreams . . ."
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It's punishment to be compelled to do what one doesn't wish.
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Nothing will do me any good unless I learn to control this body of mine.
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"In every race, in every nation, and in every clime in every period of history there is always an eager-eyed group of youthful patriots who seriously set themselves to right the wrongs done to their race or nation or . . . art or self-expression."
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