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The worst thing you can possibly do in a deal is seem desperate to make it. That makes the other guy smell blood, and then you're dead. The best thing you can do is deal from strength, and leverage is the biggest strength you can have. Leverage is having something the other guy wants.

Sweet is the breath of vernal shower, The bee's collected treasures sweet, Sweet music's melting fall, but sweeter yet The still small voice of Gratitude.
Gratitude is a fruit of great cultivation; you do not find it among gross people.
I suppose all phrases of mere compliment have their turn to be true. A man is occasionally grateful when he says "Thank you."
For all the gifts you give Me, dear, each day you live, Of thanks above All thanks that could be spoken Take not my song in token, Take my love.
God give you pardon from gratitude and other mild forms of servitude--and make peace for all of us with what is easy.
A talent for receiving gifts is far, far more rare than a talent for giving them--one concedes so much more, in the act of reception, whereas to be in the position of the giver is to retain all the psychic appurtenances of power, patronage, and control.
The commonest way of softening the hearts of those we have offended, when, vengeance in hand, they hold us at their mercy, is by submission to move them to commiseration and pity. However, audacity and steadfastness--entirely contrary means--have sometimes served to produce the same effect.
Reconciliations are the cement of friendship. Therefore friends should quarrel to strengthen their attachment, and offend each other for the pleasure of being reconciled.
All of us . . . are subject to making mistakes; so that the chief art of life, is to learn how best to remedy mistakes. Now one remedy for mistakes is honesty.
He also told me that a hostess should never apologise for any failure in her household arrangements, if there is a hostess there is insofar as there is a hostess no failure.
Never apologize and never explain--it's a sign of weakness.
Anybody who has ever tried to rectify an injustice or set a record straight comes to feel that he is going mad. And from a social point of view, he is crazy, for he is trying to undo something that is finished, to unravel the social fabric.
Certainly nothing gratifies us like. . . applause. But you can't live on applause; praise alone won't pay the rent. We need something a bit more solid; the best hand people can give us is a hand with cash in it.
Praise everybody: . . . never be squeamish, but speak out your compliment both point-blank in a man's face, and behind his back, when you know there is a reasonable chance of his hearing it again. Never lose a chance of saying a kind word.
Flattery iz like ice-cream--to relish good we want it a little at a time, and often. The more yu praze a man who don't deserve it, the more yu abuze him. Yu kan't flatter a truly wize man--he knows just how much praze iz due him; that he takes, and charges over all the balance tew the proffit and loss ackount.
I don't go in for that stuff. . . . Compliments to women about their looks. I never met a woman that didn't know if she was good-looking or not without being told, and some of them give themselves credit for more than they've got.
The quality of mercy is not strained. It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven Upon the place beneath. It is twice blest: It blesseth him that gives and him that takes.
If thou hast done an injury to another, rather own it than defend it. One way thou gainest forgiveness; the other thou doublest the wrong and reckoning.
To Err is Humane; to Forgive, Divine.
We are taught to believe that forgiveness is never denied to sincere repentance.
If we should deal out justice only, in this world, who would escape? No, it is better to be generous, and in the end more profitable, for it gains gratitude for us, and love.
Nothing human disgusts me unless it's unkind, violent.
Give me chastity and continence, but not just now.
'Tis not the many oaths that makes the truth, But the plain single vow that is vow'd true. What is not holy, that we swear not by, But take the High'st to witness.
I hate to promise; what we do then is expected from us and wants much of the welcome it finds when it surprises.
Rarely promise; but if lawful, constantly perform.
Any overt act, above all, is felt to be alchemic in its power to change. A drunkard takes the pledge; it will be strange if that does not help him. For how many years did Mr. Pepys continue to make and break his little vows? And yet I have not heard that he was discouraged in the end.
I'm going to live through this, and when it's all over, I'll never be hungry again--no, nor any of my folks!--if I have to lie, steal, cheat or kill! As God is my witness, I'll never be hungry again!
There is nothing so distressing as the consolations to be drawn from the necessity of evil, the uselessness of remedies, the inevitability of fate, and the wretchedness of the human condition. It is a mockery to try to lessen an evil by recalling that man is miserable; how much better it is to raise the mind away from such reflections and to treat man as a feeling, rather than a reasoning being.
Human life is every where a state in which much is to be endured, and little to be enjoyed.
Before an affliction is digested,-- consolation ever comes too soon;--and after it is digested, it comes too late.
It would be a poor result of all our anguish and our wrestling, if we won nothing but our old selves at the end of it--if we could return to the same blind loves, the same self-confident blame, the same light thoughts of human suffering, the same frivolous gossip over blighted human loves, the same feeble sense of that Unknown towards which we have sent forth irrepressible cries in our loneliness. Let us rather be thankful that our sorrow lives in us as an indestructible force, only changing its form, as forces do, and passing from pain into sympathy--the one poor word which includes all our best insight and our best love.
This World is not Conclusion. A Species stands beyond--Invisible, as Music--But positive, as Sound.
Sorrow comes in great waves . . . but it rolls over us, and though it may almost smother us it leaves us on the spot and we know that if it is strong we are stronger, inasmuch as it passes and we remain. It wears us, uses us, but we wear it and use it in return; and it is blind, whereas we after a manner see.
A man cannot despair if he can only imagine a better life, and if he can enact something of its possibility.
Whoever is a good man only because people will know it, and because they will esteem him better for it after knowing it, whoever will do well only on condition that his virtue will come to the knowledge of men, that man is not one from whom one can derive much service.
It might perhaps be excusable for a painter or another artisan, or even for a rhetorician or a grammarian, to toil to acquire a name by his works; but the actions of virtue are too noble in themselves to seek any other reward than from their own worth, and especially to seek it in the vanity of human judgments.
The winning of honour is but the revealing of a man's virtue and worth without disadvantage. For some in their actions do woo and affect honour and reputation, which sort of men are commonly much talked of, but inwardly little admired. And some, contrariwise, darken their virtue in the show of it, so as they be undervalued in opinion. . . . Envy, which is the canker of honour, is best extinguished by declaring a man's self in his ends, rather to seek merit than fame, and by attributing a man's successes, rather to divine Providence and felicity, than to his own virtue or policy.
How many things by season season'd are To their right praise and true perfection!
The reward of labor is life. Is that not enough? . . . If you are going to ask to be paid for the pleasure of creation, which is what excellence in work means, the next thing we shall hear of will be a bill sent in for the begetting of children.
Great works are performed, not by strength, but perseverance: yonder palace was raised by single stones, yet you see its height and spaciousness. He that shall walk with vigour three hours a day will pass in seven years a space equal to the circumference of the globe.
There is no allurement or enticement, actual or imaginary, which a well-disciplined mind may not surmount. The wish to resist more than half accomplishes the object.
Preach! Write! Act! Do any thing, save to lie down and die!
Make no little plans; they have no magic to stir men's blood and probably will not be realized. Make big plans; aim high in hope and work, remembering that a nobler, logical diagram once recorded will never die, but long after we are gone will be a living thing, asserting itself with ever growing insistency.
The world is full of people giving good advice to others, but I have thought we should all be better off if we would advise ourselves more, and others less. If I could take the good advice I am capable of giving, I should have no occasion to accept it from others.
Know whence you came. If you know whence you came, there is really no limit to where you can go.
If you cultivate a healthy poverty and simplicity, so that finding a penny will literally make your day, then, since the world is in fact planted in pennies, you have with your poverty bought a lifetime of days.
Tonight, grave sir, both my poor house and I Do equally desire your company; Not that we think us worthy such a guest, But that your worth will dignify our feast With those that come, whose grace may make that seem Something, which else could hope for no esteem.
I happened to start a question of propriety, whether, when a man knows that some of his intimate friends are invited to the house of another friend, with whom they are all equally intimate, he may join them without an invitation. JOHNSON. "No, Sir; he is not to go when he is not invited. They may be invited on purpose to abuse him" (smiling).
Best and brightest, come away! . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Away, away, from men and towns, To the wild wood and the downs--To the silent wilderness Where the soul need not repress Its music lest it should not find An echo in another's mind.
"I didn't know I was to have a party at all," said Alice; "but, if there is to be one, I think I ought to invite the guests."
No one should consider a last-minute invitation an insult. . . . A neighbor or close friend should not feel diffident about offering last-minute invitations. It is a pleasant thing at the end of a long day to find that you have plenty of food and energy to entertain a guest or two who may well feel equally delighted to put aside dinner plans and join you. This kind of spontaneous entertainment is much more attractive than the planned kind.
So come, and slowly we will walk through green gardens and marvel at this strange and sweet world.
For I was hungry, and ye gave me food; I was thirsty, and ye gave me drink; I was a stranger, and ye took me in. . . . Verily I say unto you, Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me.
. . . unbidden guests Are often welcomest when they are gone.
I can express no kinder sign of love Than this kind kiss.
Small cheer and great welcome makes a merry feast.
As a long-parted mother with her child Plays fondly with her tears and smiles in meeting, So, weeping, smiling, greet I thee, my earth, And do thee favors with my royal hands.
Th' appurtenance of welcome is fashion and ceremony.
It gives me wonder great as my content To see you here before me. O my soul's joy! If after every tempest come such calms May the winds blow till they have waken'd death! . . . If I were now to die, 'Twere now to be most happy; for, I fear, My soul hath her content so absolute That not another comfort like to this Succeeds in unknown fate.
True friendship's laws are by this rule express'd, Welcome the coming, speed the parting guest.
In a commercial country, a busy country, time becomes precious, and therefore hospitality is not so much valued. No doubt there is still room for a certain degree of it; and a man has a satisfaction in seeing his friends eating and drinking around him. But promiscuous hospitality is not the way to gain real influence. You must help some people at table before others; you must ask some people how they like their wine oftener than others. You therefore offend more people than you please.
Hospitality is one of the first Christian duties. The beast retires to its shelter, and the bird flies to its nest; but helpless man can only find refuge from his fellow creature. The greatest stranger in this world was he that came to save it. He never had an house, as if willing to see what hospitality was left remaining amongst us.
There is an emanation from the heart in genuine hospitality which cannot be described but is immediately felt and puts the stranger at once at his ease.
'Tis an honour to see me, a favour to hear: 'Tis a privilege high to have dinner and tea Along with the Red Queen, the White Queen, and me!
Hail, guest, and enter freely! All you see Is, for your momentary visit, yours; and we Who welcome you, are but the guests of God And know not our departure.
Good morning, Life--and all Things glad and beautiful. My pockets nothing hold, But he that owns the gold, The Sun, is my great friend--His spending has no end.
Many times my heart has bled for the hostess who has slaved for hours to produce four kinds of sandwiches and two kinds of cake, and who is so exhausted by her labours that she casts a gloom over her own party. Far, far better to offer something simple and good, in a spirit of revelry, than to toil to produce pretentious mediocrity. It is the spirit which makes a party, and not dainty sandwiches, cut in the form of hearts and tasting like spades.
I like large parties. They're so intimate. At small parties there isn't any privacy.
Very good orators, when they are out, they will spit.
That is not good language which all understand not.
To make oneself understood is good enough language for me; all your fine sayings don't do me no good.
The best foundation of eloquence, is the being master of the subject upon which a man is to speak. That is a root that will furnish sap to a discourse, so that it shall not go dry.
It is not enough to speak the language he speaks in, in its utmost purity, and according to the rules of grammar; but he must speak it elegantly; that is, he must choose the best and most expressive words, and put them in the best order. He should likewise adorn what he says by proper metaphors, similes and other figures of rhetoric; and he should enliven it, if he can, by quick and sprightly turns of wit.
. . . true Expression, like th' unchanging Sun, Clears, and improves whate'er it shines upon, It gilds all Objects, but it alters none. Expression is the Dress of Thought, and still Appears more decent as more suitable; A vile Conceit in pompous Words exprest, Is like a Clown in regal Purple drest; For diff 'rent Styles with diff'rent Subjects sort, As several Garbs with Country, Town, and Court.
The average intellect of five hundred persons, taken as they come, is not very high. It may be sound and safe, so far as it goes, but it is not very rapid or profound. A lecture ought to be something which all can understand, about something which interests everybody.
A liberal use of wine makes after-dinner speaking much easier. Men will then laugh heartily at the oldest kind of a chestnut.
Never be grandiloquent when you want to drive home a searching truth. Don't whip with a switch that has the leaves on, if you want it to tingle.
My heart goes out to anyone who is making his first appearance before an audience of human beings.
Once I was elected to membership in a certain business organization. I went to its dinners where there was much speech-making. At first I regretted that I could not hear those often long orations. Then, one year, they printed them after the dinner and I read them. I haven't felt a mite of sorrow since.
I suppose that for every half-hour speech that I make before a convention or over the radio, I put in ten hours preparing it.
To read as if you were talking you must first write as if you were talking. What you have on the paper in front of you must be talk stuff, not book stuff.
You can scrap, in writing a talk, most of what you've been told all your life was literary good form. You have to; if you want your talk to ring the bell and walk in and sit down by the hearth.
On the platform, as anyone used to public speaking knows, it is almost impossible not to take your tone from the audience. It is always obvious within a few minutes what they will respond to and what they will not, and in practice you are almost compelled to speak for the benefit of what you estimate as the stupidest person present, and also to ingratiate yourself by means of the ballyhoo known as "personality." If you don't do so, the result is always an atmosphere of frigid embarrassment.
The man who writes only for the eye generally writes badly; the man who writes to be heard will write with some eloquence, some regard for the music of words, and will reach nearer to his reader's heart and mind.
I wonder whose after-dinner speeches, in history, have been most dreaded? Socrates went on and on but at least he kept his young fellow diners wide awake by catching them out with trick questions. . . . Of course you don't have to go back almost two thousand years to find people who bang on; they are right with us today.
O, reason not the need! our basest beggars Are in the poorest thing superfluous. Allow not nature more than nature needs, Man's life is cheap as beast's.
Let us not repine, or so much as think the gifts of God unequally dealt, if we see another abound with riches, when as God knows, the cares that are the keys that keep those riches hang often so heavily at the rich mans girdle, that they clog him with weary days and restless nights, even when others sleep quietly. We see but the outside of the rich mans happiness: few consider him to be like the Silk-worm, that, when she seems to play, is at the very same time spinning her own bowels, and consuming her self. And this many rich men do; loading themselves with the corroding cares, to keep what they have (probably) unconscionably got.
Gold gives to the plainest a pleasing charm: without it all else is a miserable business.
Billionism, or even millionism, must be a blessed kind of state, with health and clear conscience and youth and good looks,--but most blessed is this, that it takes off all the mean cares which give people the three wrinkles between the eyebrows, and leaves them free to have a good time and make others have a good time.
I love money; just to be in the room with a millionaire makes me less forlorn. Wealthy people should be segregated like lepers to keep them from contaminating others.
Alas! old man, we're wealthy now, it's sad beyond a doubt; We cannot dodge prosperity, success has found us out. Your eye is very dull and drear, my brow is creased with care, We realize how hard it is to be a millionaire.
Happiness lies not in the mere possession of money; it lies in the joy of achievement, in the thrill of creative effort. The joy and moral stimulation of work no longer must be forgotten in the mad chase of evanescent profits.
Poverty of goods is easy to cure, poverty of soul impossible.
He that hath lost his credit is dead to the world.
O fool! to think God hates the worthy mind, The lover and the love of humankind, Whose life is healthful, and whose conscience clear; Because he wants a thousand pounds a year.
Unless I die, I shall beat [sic] up against this foul weather. A penny I will not borrow from any one. . . . I am grieved for Lady Scott and Anne, who cannot conceive adversity can have the better of them, even for a moment. If it teaches a little of the frugality which I never had the heart to enforce when money was plenty, and it seemed cruel to interrupt the enjoyment of it in the way they liked best, it will be well.
If success is rare and slow, everybody knows how quick and easy ruin is.
It is wonderful what an insight into domestic economy being really hard up gives one. If you want to find out the value of money, live on fifteen shillings a week, and see how much you can put by for clothes and recreation. You will find that it is worthwhile to wait for the farthing change, that it is worthwhile to walk a mile to save a penny, that a glass of beer is a luxury to be indulged in only at rare intervals, and that a collar can be worn for four days.
Bein' poor never holds stylish people back.
Pity those in Mammon's thrall, Poor, misguided souls are they, Money's nothing, after all--Make the grocer think that way!
Regard thy table as the table before the Lord. Chew well, and hurry not.
Dry bread at home is better than roast meate abroad.
When I am hungry the least disappointment seizes me and pulls me down, but when I have had a hearty meal I can face the world, and the greatest misfortunes do not matter a snap. Take my advice, drink freely to support yourself against the blows of fortune; twenty glasses of wine round your heart will prevent sorrow entering it.
Why, to eat and drink together, and to promote kindness; and Sir, this is better done when there is no solid conversation; for when there is, people differ in opinion, and get into bad humour, or some of the company who are not capable of such conversation, are left out, and feel themselves uneasy. It was for this reason, Sir Robert Walpole said, he always talked bawdy at his table, because in that all could join.
A breakfast, a lunch, a tea, is a circumstance, an occurrence, in social life, but a dinner is an event. It is the full-blown flower of that cultivated growth of which those lesser products are the buds.
Fill up the lonely glass, and drain it In memory of dear old times. Welcome the wine, whate'er the seal is; As sit you down and say your grace With thankful heart, whate'er the meal is.
Even to this hour, the first acquaintance with oysters is with much hesitation and squeamish apprehension. Who, then, first gulped the dainty thing, and forever after called himself blessed?
The best of the tables and the best of the fare--And as for the others, the devil may care; It isn't our fault if they dare not afford To sup like a prince and be drunk as a lord. So pleasant it is to have money, heigh ho! So pleasant it is to have money.
Great was the clatter of knives and pewter-plates and tin-cans when Adam entered the house-place, but there was no hum of voices to this accompaniment: the eating of excellent roast-beef, provided free of expense, was too serious a business to those good farm-labourers to be performed with a divided attention, even if they had had anything to say to each other,--which they had not.
A good dinner brings out all the softer side of a man. Under its genial influence, the gloomy and morose become jovial and chatty. Sour, starchy individuals, who all the rest of the day go about looking as if they lived on vinegar and Epsom salts, break out into wreathed smiles after dinner, and exhibit a tendency to pat small children on the head, and talk to them--vaguely--about sixpences. Serious young men thaw, and become mildly cheerful; and snobbish young men, of the heavy moustache type, forget to make themselves objectionable.
We are all reared in a traditional belief that what we get to eat at home is, by virtue of that location, better than what we get to eat anywhere else. The expression, "home-cooking," carries a connotation of assured excellence, and the popular eating-house advertises "pies like those your mother used to make," as if pie-making were a maternal function. Economy, comfort, and health are supposed to accompany our domestic food supply, and danger to follow the footsteps of those who eat in a hotel, a restaurant, or a boarding house.
When I think of Etiquette and Funerals; when I consider the euphemisms and conventions and various costumes with which we invest the acts of our animal existence; when I bear in mind how elegantly we eat our victuals, and remember all the ablutions and preparations and salutations and exclamations and manipulations I performed when I dined out last evening, I reflect what creatures we are of ceremony; how elaborately polite a simian Species.
The dinner table was the intellectual, spiritual, and social center of our lives. It was where the day was headed and it was about as close to heavenly satisfaction as a poor man could expect to get.
I sent out invitations To summon guests. I collected together All my friends. Loud talk And simple feasting.
To what end the house, if not for conversation, kindly manners, the entertainment of friendships, and cordialities that render the house large, and the ready receptacle of hosts and guests?
More fascinating at a party, than any other music is the rushing sound of fashionable voices;--the vociferation of all those fairies, each faintly blowing its own trumpet.
Every time she gave a party she had this feeling of being something not herself, and that every one was unreal in one way; much more real in another. It was, she thought, partly their clothes, partly being taken out of their ordinary ways, partly the background, it was possible to say things you couldn't say anyhow else, things that needed an effort; possible to go much deeper.
To entertain at home is both a relief and a rediscovery--of rooms and settings, of your favorite things, and particularly of your own tastes and ideas.
Most importantly, one must never go to a party without a clear objective: whether it be to "network," thereby adding to your spread of contacts to improve your career; to make friends with someone specific; or simply "clinch" a top deal. Understand where have been going wrong by going to parties armed only with objective of not getting too pissed.
The more we enquire, the less we can resolve.
If you want a piece of work well and thoroughly done, pick a busy man. The man of leisure postpones and procrastinates, and is ever making preparations and "getting things in shape"; but the ability to focus on a thing and do it is the talent of the man seemingly o'erwhelmed with work.
It seems odd to me that in our present educational system, in which virtually everything else is taught or half-taught, nobody teaches these young hopefuls how to behave when looking for a job. I do not ask for groveling humility, but some hint of modesty, and some offer of honest service, would be welcome.
Walk in very serious. You are not applying for a boy's job. Money is to pass. Be quiet, fine, and serious. Everybody likes a kidder, but nobody lends him money. . . . Walk in with a big laugh. Don't look worried. Start off with a couple of your good stories to lighten things up. It's not what you say, it's how you say it--because personality always wins the day.
You have an interviewer pretending to be a person, and an applicant pretending to be what he is not. They are both talking past each other to the Mt. McKinley Business School.
Alice--Mutton: Mutton--Alice.
If you really want to hear about it, the first thing you'll probably want to know is where I was born, and what my lousy childhood was like, and how my parents were occupied and all before they had me, and all the David Copperfield kind of crap, but I don't feel like going into it, if you want to know the truth.
Usually, I forget first meetings, excepting always those solemn audiences granted by the old and famous when I was young and green.
A facetious friend of mine used to say, the wine could not be bad, where the company is agreeable; a maxim which, however, ought to be taken cum grano salis.
That's all that distinguishes us from the beasts, Madam--drinking when we aren't thirsty and making love whenever we feel like it.
O Whisky! soul o' plays an' pranks! Accept a Bardie's gratefu' thanks! When wanting thee, what tuneless cranks Are my poor verses!
You women are always thinking of men's being in liquor. Why, you do not suppose a man is overset by a bottle? I am sure of this--that if everybody was to drink their bottle a day, there would not be half the disorders in the world there are now. It would be a famous good thing for us all. . . . There is not the hundredth part of the wine consumed in this kingdom that there ought to be. Our foggy climate wants help.
Gin! Gin! a Drop of Gin! Oh! then its tremendous temptations begin, To take, alas! To the fatal glass,--And happy the wretch that it does not win To change the black hue Of his ruin to blue--While Angels sorrow, and Demons grin--And lose the rheumatic Chill of his attic By plunging into the Palace of Gin!
I rather like bad wine, . . . one gets so bored with good wine.
Better is old wine than new, and old friends likewise.
ABSTAINER; n. A weak person who yields to the temptation of denying himself a pleasure. . . . BRANDY; n. A cordial composed of one part thunder-and-lightning, one part remorse, two parts bloody murder.
The cocktail is a pleasant drink, It's mild and harmless, I don't think. When you've had one, you call for two, And then you don't care what you do.
Say what you like and I'll be calm, No matter what I think; But if you value blood and bones--No disrespect to Drink!
The harsh, useful things of the world, from pulling teeth to digging potatoes, are best done by men who are as starkly sober as so many convicts in the death-house, but the lovely and useless things, the charming and exhilarating things, are best done by men with, as the phrase is, a few sheets in the wind.
In some secluded rendez-vous That overlooks the avenue with someone sharing a delightful chat Of this and that and cocktails for two.
Regular habits sweeten simplicity. In the middle of every morning I leave the kitchen and have a glass of sherry with Aunt. I can only say that this is glorious. There is a great deal of gloriousness in simplicity.
There is one thing I know I shall never get enough of--champagne. I cannot say when I drank my first, prickly, delicious glass of it. . . . I think I probably started my lifelong affair with Dom Perignon's discovery in 1929, when I first went to France. It does not matter. I would gladly ask for the same end as a poor peasant's there, who is given a glass of champagne on his death bed to cheer him on his way.
Do not allow your children to mix drinks. It is unseemly and they use too much vermouth.
Now let them drink till they nod and wink Even as good fellows should do; They shall not miss to have the bliss Good ale doth bring men to.
Please ye we may contrive this afternoon And quaff carouses to our mistress' health, And do as adversaries do in law, Strive mightily, but eat and drink as friends.
The best smell is bread, the best savour, salt, the best love that of children.
Wine and beauty by turns great souls should inspire; Present all together! and now, boys, give fire!
May you live as long as you are fit to live, but no longer! or, may you rather die before you cease to be fit to live than after!
I fill this cup to one made up Of loveliness alone, A woman, of her gentle sex The seeming paragon,--Her health! And would on earth there stood Some more of such a frame, That life might be all poetry, And weariness a name.

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