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Young Writers Society


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While you ponder this, enjoy a poem:


Epitaph (1833)
by Samuel Taylor Coleridge

Stop, Christian passer-by: Stop, child of God,
And read, with gentle breast. Beneath this sod
A poet lies, or that which once seem’d he--
O, lift one thought in prayer for S. T. C.--
That he who many a year with toil of breath
Found death in life, may here find life in death:
Mercy for praise--to be forgiven for fame--
He ask’d, and hoped through Christ. Do thou the same.


They laugh at me because I'm different; I laugh at them because they're all the same.
— Kurt Cobain