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My soul is crushed, my spirit sore I do not like me anymore, I cavil, quarrel, grumble, grouse, I ponder on the narrow house I shudder at the thought of men I'm due to fall in love again. -Dorothy Parker, "Enough Rope"
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,-^-.
!oYo!
/./=\.\______
## )\/\
||-----w||
|| ||
grep -i 'palavra' nome_ficheiro.txt