In the events of expectations refrain from the touch that fells castles, sand dreams of gnats and fleas shy from this touch deny the prosperities of wind flags buoys of progression tooters hauling in the wide shipments for the windfall is deceptive ships turn by night and in the cold, stars deceive compasses pout the routes and lie large wings will pass neither to be worn nor shed neither to be ignored fluff as you will in goose quills the springs rise in metal against your backs when you least anticipate

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