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| In sooth I know not why I am so sad: It wearies me; you say it wearies you; but how I caught it, found it, or came by it, what stuff 'tis made of, whereof it is born, I am to learn; And such a want-wit sadness makes of me That I have much ado to know myself.The Merchant Of Venice |
| suicide... self Injurers... |
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