I vow and protest there's more plague than pleasure with a secret.
And what 's impossible can't be, And never, never comes to pass.
Love and a cottage! Eh, Fanny! Ah, give me indifference and a coach and six!
Oh how will crime engender crime! throw guilt Upon the soul, and like a stone cast on The troubled waters of a lake, 'Twill form in circles round succeeding round; Each wider than the first.
Life's a lottery, and man should make up his mind to the blanks.
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