| http://www.w3.org/ns/prov#value | - There wasn???t a breath in that land of death, and I hurried, horror-driven, With a corpse half hid that I couldn???t get rid, because of a promise given; It was lashed to the sleigh, and it seemed to say: ???You may tax your brawn and brains, But you promised true, and it???s up to you to cremate those last remains.??? Now a promise made is a debt unpaid, and the trail has its own stern code.
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