We march and fight, to death or on to victory. Our might is right, no traitors shall prevail. Our hearts are steeled against the fiery gates of hell. No shot or shell, can still our mighty song. – George Lincoln Rockwell
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Waiting for the fish to bite or waiting for wind to fly a kite. Or waiting around for Friday night or waiting perhaps for their Uncle Jake or a pot to boil or a better break or a string of pearls or a pair of pants or a wig with curls or another chance. Everyone is just waiting. – Dr. Seuss
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