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| Whenever I find myself growing grim
about the mouth; whenever it is a damp, drizzly November in my soul;
whenever I find myself involuntarily pausing before coffin
warehouses, and bringing up the rear of every funeral I meet; and
especially whenever my hypos get such an upper hand of me, that it
requires a strong moral principle to prevent me from deliberately
stepping into the street, and methodically knocking people's hats
off--then, I account it high time to get to sea as soon as I can.
Moby Dick
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