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When I look in the glass I see that every line in my face means pessimism; but in spite of my face that is my experience I remain an optimist. Time with an unsteady hand has etched thin crooked lines, and, deepening the hollows, has cast the original expression into shadow. Pain and sorrow flow over us with little ceasing, as the sea-hoofs beat on the beach.
When I look in the glass I see that every line in my face means pessimism; but in spite of my face that is my experience I remain an optimist. Time with an unsteady hand has etched thin crooked lines, and, deepening the hollows, has cast the original expression into shadow. Pain and sorrow flow over us with little ceasing, as the sea-hoofs beat on the beach.
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