Fortune Linuxando

fortune@linuxando~ $fortune -m literature | cowsay

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The Priest's grey nimbus in a niche where he dressed discreetly.

I will not sleep here tonight. Home also I cannot go.

 A voice, sweetened and sustained, called to him from the sea.

Turning the curve he waved his hand. A sleek brown head, a seal's, far

out on the water, round. Usurper.

 -James Joyce, "Ulysses"

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