O God, O God, how weary, stale, flat, and unprofitable seem to me all the uses of this world! – William Shakespeare
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The rankest compound of villainous smell that ever offended nostril. – William Shakespeare
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I have to confess that I had gambled on my soul and lost it with heroic insouciance and lightness of touch. The soul is so impalpable, so often useless, and sometimes such a nuisance, that I felt no more emotion on losing it than if, on a stroll, I had mislaid my visiting card. – Charles Baudelaire
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