[P]oetry… folds its wings at the rough contact of reality… it feels in one sense much more, and in another much less, than the soul engaged with reality… – Alexandre Vinet (1797–1847)
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Im not a good father and theyre not children any more the eldest is in his fifties. My relationship with their mothers broke down and, because of what the law was, they went with their mothers and were imbued with their mothers morality in life and they were not my people any more. – Wilbur Smith
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