razoredge

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into this wild abyss, the womb of nature and perhaps her grave, of neither sea, nor shore, nor air, nor fire... but all these in their pregnant causes mixed confusedly, and which thus must ever fight, unless the almighty maker then ordain his dark materials to create more worlds, into this wild abyss the wary fiend stood on the brink of hell and looked a while, pondering his voyage

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