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It is true, many of my relations visit me; but I think they only come to calculate how long I shall thus gradually be sinking into the grave. Believe me, my dear friend, I often wish to be in the place of one of my day labourers; to be able to eat, drink, sleep, and laugh; and to have children to take care of me in my old age. I see them dancing round my sturdy plowman; while I, wretched man, am a burthen to myself.

He raised his eyes towards Heaven, and a tear stole down his pale cheeks.

The Works of Mary Wollstonecraft. Volume 2: Elements of Morality. Young Grandison, Chapter II.


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