| http://www.w3.org/ns/prov#value | - you know nothing about the sort of love of which i am capable. every atom of your flesh is as dear to me as my own: in pain and sickness it would still be dear. your mind is my treasure, and if it were broken, it would be my treasure still: if you raged, my arms should confine you, if you flew at me wildly, Ii should receive you in an embrace. in your quiet moments i could hang over you with untir
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