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Hope. It is a cruel and vindictive thing. It allows for possibilities that will never happen, it offers chances that will never be; it infuses your world with a happiness that will wring the very marrow from your bones once you’ve not a tear left to shed. The jester that wears this hat, he dances only for those willing enough to be made the fool.

Like all else, hope shrivels to nothingness. It serves only to blacken the soul of one who would dare cling to it.

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