The tears of the world are a constant quality. For each one who begins to weep, somewhere else another stops. The same is true of the laugh.

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How time flies when one has fun!

What are we doing here, that is the question.

Nothing happens, nobody comes, nobody goes, it’s awful.

We all are born mad. Some remain so.

There’s man all over for you, blaming on his boots the faults of his feet.