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7:35am July 15, 2014

“Somewhere there is a blade of grass that has been unchanged by man or machine,” I wrote. “It will sprout forth, grow, and die, without ever being validated by man nor beast. How many butterflies in all their splendid glory are born and fly through a mountain meadow, and soon die without their beauty ever being viewed or appreciated?”

— Dully, Howard; Fleming, Charles (2007-09-04). My Lobotomy (p. 203). Crown Publishing Group. Kindle Edition. 
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