the bigger it gets. How now. My child is a silent one and strange. How is it that the peals of the bell are not heard. But by me ... they are the clarion to my consort's call. He is by tree and hedge and gathering mist heard but by clamour and prattle and steam of dross not taken heed. Gladly is this the state that be. Say I. For I would not wish that they the polyester prating penultitude could hear his jubilant dulcet spakings. They are for mine hear ears only. Truebitude. kisses.
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