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A little child born yesterday A thing on mother's milk and kisses fed.

Homer

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Homer
Author
Poet
Writer
Homerus
Homeros
Mæonides
Baby
Child
Born
Newborn
Mother
Kisses
Littles
Feds
Little
Milk
Children
Yesterday
Thing
Kissing

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And here I am using my own lungs like a sucker.
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I long for home, long for the sight of home.
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What greater glory attends a man than what he wins with his racing feet and his striving hands?
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They did not know her-gods are hard for mortals to recognize.
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Singing is the lowest form of communication.
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The sun rose on the flawless brimming sea into a sky all brazen-all one brightening for gods immortal and for mortal men on plowlands kind with grain.
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How vain, without the merit, is the name.
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Now from the smooth deep ocean-stream the sun Began to climb the heavens, and with new rays Smote the surrounding fields.
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Uncontrollable laughter arose among the blessed gods.
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Friend, many and many a dream is mere confusion a cobweb of no consequence at all. Two gates for ghostly dreams there are: One gateway of honest horn, and one of ivory. Issuing by the ivory gate are dreams of glimmering illusion, fantasies, but those that come through solid polished horn may be borne out, if mortals only know them.
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In every sorrowing soul I pour'd delight, And poverty stood smiling in my sight.
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