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On simple things we dote and often chide,
Others for their views that are not ours,
And read in things meanings not implied,
That at its onset the source of friendship sours.
Do we not hear as would our own tongues speak,
Not hearing what the others' mouth doth say,
Without the will to contemplate or seek,
The source and reason for the others way.
Must we be always right for we must be,
If in our opinion the other is always wrong,
That all the landscape that our eyes might see,
Might well to another more perfectly belong?
All knowing we are who do not know the truth,
When accepted lie becomes accepted proof.
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