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If fallacies come knocking at my door, I'd rather feed, and shelter full a score, Than hide behind the black portcullis, doubt, And run the risk of barring one Truth out.

And if pretension for a time deceive, And prove me one too ready to believe, Far less my shame, than if by stubborn act, I brand as lie, some great colossal Fact.

On my soul's door, the latch-string hangs outside; Within, the lighted candle. Let me guide Some errant follies, on their wandering way, Rather, than Wisdom give no welcoming ray.


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