Shenron: Speak. Name your wish. Say it now and it will be so granted.
Jeannie: Your wish is my command, Master.
What most we wish, with ease we fancy near.
Believe me, I wish that I could just wish away my feelings, but I can't.
Wishing, of all employments is the worst.
With all thy sober charms possest,Whose wishes never learnt to stray.
What folly can be ranker. Like our shadows,Our wishes lengthen as our sun declines.
Man wants but little here below,Nor wants that little long.
If a man could half his wishes he would double his Troubles.
Thy wish was father, Harry, to that thought:I stay too long by thee, I weary thee.
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