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[bettertolive]

Old habits come back easily. It's like riding a bike; you never really forget how

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[anathelen]

April come she will, when streams are ripe and swelled with rain; May, she will stay, resting in my arms again. June, she'll change her tune. In restless walks shell prowl the night. July, she will fly, and give no warning to her flight. August, die she must. The autumn winds blow chilly and cold. September, I'll remember, a love once new has now grown old.