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I have walked along many roads, and opened paths through brush, I have sailed over a hundred seas and tied up on a hundred shores. Everywhere I've gone I've seen excursions of sadness, angry and melancholy drunkards with black shadows, and academics in offstage clothes who watch, say nothing, and think they know, because they do not drink wine in the ordinary bars. Evil men who walk around polluting the earth . . . And everywhere I've been I've seen men who dance and play, when they can, and work the few inches of ground they have. If they turn up somewhere, they never ask where they are. When they take trips, they ride on the backs of old mules. They don't know how to hurry, not even on holidays. They drink wine, if there is some, if not, cool water. These men are the good ones, who love, work, walk and dream. And on a day no different from the rest they lie down beneath the earth. [17] 1 ...

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