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03-26-2006, 08:16 PM
Join Date: Dec 2004
Location: In a coign of the cliff between lowland and highland, at the sea-down's edge between windward and lee, walled round with rocks as an inland island, the ghost of a garden fronts the sea.
He's dead, Jim. You get his wallet, I'll take his phaser.
My strength is as the strength of eight --
My heart is nearly pure.
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