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When the roses are gone, nothing is left but the thorn.
Said the evergreen to the iceball
?I will have my way with you in the spring when you will wither away, and rather than embracing me with your hard and cold heart, you will enrich me from the bottom of my roots to the inner sanctum of my soul!?
Each has a glorious moment in time, as the cycles of nature go around and around with ups and downs.
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Like fragile ice anger passes away in time.