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His Heart Was Like A Sensitive Plant, That Opens For A Moment In The Sunshine, But Curls Up And Shrinks Into Itself At The Slightest Touch Of The Finger, Or The Lightest Breath Of Wind.
-Anne Bronte
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His Heart Was Like A Sensitive Plant,

Anne Bronte
His Heart Was Like A Sensitive Plant, That Opens For A Moment In The Sunshine, But Curls Up And Shrinks Into Itself At The Slightest Touch Of The Finger, Or The Lightest Breath Of Wind.
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