Mountains out of molehills and armies out of windmills; and you'll tire yourself in one direction and shatter yourself in the other. There’s stories, too, about his demonstrator, Capes Something or other. " She departed reluctantly. She heard his voice screaming her name into the twilight as she fled, his cries trailing like banners, weaving through the breeze that had begun to gently stir the dew on the ground.
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