On a very serious note, the quintessential quote has a hint in central to devote...to. You'll find that breaking teeth on asphalt attracts making treats there on the sphalt alterics intaking meats where upon a malt inquisites within making treats and seats. Somehow I'll find my way to the moon. Someday I will figure out how to let it go. I really don't think that I need to know. It's hard at points and sometimes the numbers don't line up, but it really makes me think about things that are there and just won't stop. And silence is a factor of an uninformed voter's regret, and within that blasphemous net, you hear a barking dog, a throating frog log in her thing's dog's massage in mysogynist flaws with llamas on frogs. Dripping sink faucet signs to long echoes of osteriphineces. Alibaster among us, stop this taking these fungus we're lost! We can't be without exhaust and frost upon my tongue singes the folds of my mind and IRONS THEM O:UT!!!! I've gone inSanE! I can't hold ON to these Words any longer, these voCaLS LONG lost. I've gone off into the other dimension, I think how at times I've been too far gone, the exhaust in my lost cause of a facade is blossoming. The other DIRECTION. You're not even throat singing anymore. Hard beats, typing a letter to dear grandmother. Unleash the masquerade assage to barage the bastille always lined with the moon in teal and we see that the steely knight handles are real in teir surreal appeal to reveal all of the meals in the bastille where there is only cereal. Explosions in hardcore breakthrough omniscient throuihg. I've been gone for quite a while, helly Danny. It;s only the days where I find my surface in the oxygen of the sky. And my dog Skye won't really say "hi." unless you come by like "hey tis guy wants to come by, is that cool?" and Skye's like "yeah, that's fine I guess." And when you get to my place she will be escited. Like there's a treat for her inside of it. Every time she walks into another room, she sees her groom to another bafoom. But those days are over, my grandmother won't come over. I'm a little too far on to the thought of a short wind end sent ants.
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Studies show that when a given norm is changed in the face of the unchanging, the remaining contradictions will parallel the truth.
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