All men feel a habitual gratitude, and something of an honorable bigotry, for the objects which have long continued to please them.
Even thus last night, and two nights more I lay, And could not win thee, Sleep, by any stealth: So do not let me wear to-night away. Without thee what is all the morning's wealth? Come, blessed barrier between day and day, Dear mother of fresh thoughts and joyous health!
These hoards of wealth you can unlock at will.
The wealthiest man among us is the best
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