Words with dad in them

Words With Dad In Them

A list of words that contain Dad, and words with dad in them. This page finds any words that contain the word or letter you enter from a large scrabble dictionary. We also have lists of Words that end with dad, and words that start with dad.

Dad is a playable Scrabble Word!

Contents

• Highest scoring words with Dad
• 11-letter words with Dad
• 10-letter words with Dad
• 9-letter words with Dad
• 8-letter words with Dad
• 7-letter words with Dad
• 6-letter words with Dad
• 5-letter words with Dad
• 4-letter words with Dad
• 3-letter words with Dad
• FAQs about words with Dad

The highest scoring words with Dad

Want to go straight to the words that will get you the best score? Here are all the highest scoring words with dad, not including the 50-point bonus if they use seven letters.

59 Scrabble words that contain Dad

11 Letter Words With Dad

• crawdaddies₁₉
• grandaddies₁₅
• haciendados₁₈
• hispanidads₁₈
• skedaddlers₁₈
• skedaddling₁₉

10 Letter Words With Dad

• granddaddy₁₈
• hacendados₁₇
• haciendado₁₇
• hispanidad₁₇
• skedaddled₁₈
• skedaddler₁₇
• skedaddles₁₇

9 Letter Words With Dad

• crawdaddy₂₀
• dadaistic₁₃
• grandaddy₁₆
• granddads₁₃
• hacendado₁₆
• hodaddies₁₅
• skedaddle ₁₆

8 Letter Words With Dad

• alidades₁₀
• crawdads₁₅
• dadaisms₁₂
• dadaists₁₀
• daddling₁₂
• grandads₁₁
• granddad₁₂

7 Letter Words With Dad

• alidade₉
• alidads₉
• aoudads₉
• crawdad₁₄
• dadaism₁₁
• dadaist₉
• daddies₁₀
• daddled₁₁
• daddles₁₀
• dadoing₁₀
• doodads₁₀
• grandad₁₀
• hodaddy₁₆

6 Letter Words With Dad

• alidad₈
• aoudad₈
• audads₈
• caudad₁₀
• daddle₉
• dadgum₁₁
• dadoed₉
• dadoes₈
• doodad₉
• hodads₁₁

5 Letter Words With Dad

• audad₇
• dadas₇
• daddy₁₁
• dados₇
• hodad₁₀

4 Letter Words With Dad

• dada₆
• dado₆
• dads₆

3 Letter Words With Dad

• dad₅

FAQ on words containing Dad

What are the best Scrabble words with Dad?

The highest scoring Scrabble word containing Dad is Crawdaddy, which is worth at least 20 points without any bonuses. The next best word with Dad is dadaism, which is worth 11 points. Other high score words with Dad are daddled (11), daddles (10), doodads (10), crawdad (14), hodaddy (16), daddies (10), alidade (9), and dadoing (10).

How many words contain Dad?

There are 59 words that contaih Dad in the Scrabble dictionary. Of those 6 are 11 letter words, 7 are 10 letter words, 7 are 9 letter words, 7 are 8 letter words, 13 are 7 letter words, 10 are 6 letter words, 5 are 5 letter words, 3 are 4 letter words, and 1 is a 3 letter word.

List of Words Containing 'dad'

There are 57 words which contain 'dad'

3 letter words containing 'dad':

4 letter words containing 'dad':

dada

dado

dads

5 letter words containing 'dad':

audad

dadas

daddy

dados

hodad

6 letter words containing 'dad':

alidad

aoudad

audads

caudad

daddle

dadoed

dadoes

doodad

hodads

7 letter words containing 'dad':

alidade

alidads

aoudads

crawdad

dadaism

dadaist

daddies

daddled

daddles

dadoing

doodads

grandad

hodaddy

8 letter words containing 'dad':

alidades

crawdads

dadaisms

dadaists

daddling

grandads

granddad

9 letter words containing 'dad':

dadaistic

grandaddy

granddads

hacendado

hodaddies

skedaddle

10 letter words containing 'dad':

granddaddy

hacendados

haciendado

hispanidad

skedaddled

skedaddler

skedaddles

11 letter words containing 'dad':

grandaddies

haciendados

hispanidads

skedaddlers

skedaddling

12 letter words containing 'dad':

granddaddies

from the word "father" - Teacher's newspaper

Father's Day is one of the youngest holidays in our country, which is celebrated annually on the third Sunday of October. It is not surprising that the topic of fatherhood has become central to the next extracurricular activity from the "Conversations about the Important" cycle.

Swipe right to see more images

It was a sunny morning in Moscow on October 10th. Schoolchildren and their parents rush along Sadovnicheskaya embankment to school No. 518. The fact that this is a special school can be understood literally from the doorstep. The architecture of the building of an educational organization that first opened its doors in the distant 1935, refers to the period of post-constructivism. Before us is an original facade with round windows, a large attic, pillars, long balconies and many other bright elements. But it's not just about design features - different children study together here, including those with special educational needs.

Director of the school Olga Andreevna Goncharova meets the students in the spacious hall. Bright and energetic, with a cheerful sparkle in her eyes, she seems to be able to maintain small talk with everyone, regardless of the age and mood of the interlocutor.

Next to the entrance to the school, a room with boxes for students' mobile phones: compartments for classes, on the next level - numbering for family records. You don’t have to worry about the safety of gadgets, the design is securely locked with a key.

With us, a boy of 12 years old is looking for his cell and casually puts his phone there.

– Why are you leaving him? I'm interested.

“I don't need him,” she replies with a shrug.

– What if mom calls? - I voice the most common argument against.

“She knows I'm at school,” he says, and without waiting for another question, he runs off to class.

It is important to clarify that depositing phones is voluntary.

There is still time to walk around the school: the children disperse into the classrooms, some play table tennis, others go up to the upper floors, including on special elevators. We go to the cinema class, where the creative atmosphere is emphasized, among other things, by posters hung on the walls. One of the interesting features is the training of children of different ages, who jointly create interesting media products - from commercials to TV series about the life of the school.

In the meantime, the classrooms are preparing for the “Conversations about the Important” with which we started. Based on the sets of methodological materials presented by the Ministry of Education of the Russian Federation, they will be conducted by class teachers.

But what is Father's Day without dads? Of course, in several classes they are the main characters of the day.

A graduate of the Moscow Art Theater School, actor Alexander Stefantsov came to the class of his son Vasily. A short story about myself and my family is followed by a Q&A session.

– Tell me, are you friends with Oguzok? Philip asks.

– With whom?

- With Rump.

– With whom?

Laughter in the classroom.

- This is the hero of the series "Kitchen", - the class teacher explains.

– Maybe I'm friends, but I just didn't know that he was Rump, – Alexander laughs it off.

Many questions and comments come from Vasily. It can be seen that he is proud of his father and is very glad that his classmates will finally see for themselves what a cool dad he has.

– Vasily, you can ask me about everything at home…

– In front of the whole class! retorts the son.

– What contribution do you make to housekeeping? Lena asks the actual question.

- I contribute directly. Actually, everything is on me, - Alexander replies with a smile, so it’s not even clear whether he is joking or not. – I only occasionally let Vasya's mother do something around the house…

Alexander shares his attitude to budget planning:

– When you have a family, children, you often deny yourself something in order to please your loved ones. For example, I do not buy expensive equipment for myself in order to purchase something necessary for my son.

Engineer Pavel Skachkov is talking to children in another class. He begins with a story about aviation and the features of the operation of aircraft engines. The topic is close to him, because Pavel succeeded in the aviation industry, after which he moved to the energy industry. Now he works as a system administrator for the project for the reconstruction of the Toktogul hydroelectric power station in Kyrgyzstan.

“There are turbines here and there, but only in the energy sector turbines don't fly, they produce electricity,” he tries to get the kids interested in a relatively complex topic. – Do you know how electricity is generated?

Schoolchildren vying to offer options. After their discussion, Pavel Aleksandrovich continues his story about himself:

– For 8 years I have been able to participate in the development and modernization of gas turbines, some of them are successfully operating in Russia.

We go to another class, here "Conversation about the important" is conducted by the class teacher Maria Sergeevna Petrosyan. By this time, he and the guys managed to watch the sixteen-minute film "Interview" from the film almanac "Ivans Remembering Kinship" with Alexei Serebryakov in the title role. It's time to discuss what we saw.

Thoughtful and meaningful answers about relationships in the family, love, difficulties in mutual understanding, happiness are surprising in a good way. There are no pre-prepared positions here, the responses are born in the process, which indicates that the guys followed the course of the plot, tried on something for themselves and their loved ones.

- The hero of the film was happy because he had a family, a wife and children, for example, says Philip.

– He was happy, because when they asked him if he would like to change something, he said no, Polina echoes him.

In the corridor, Olga Andreevna is stopped by elementary school girls who are ready to share their emotions from the conversation about their fathers.

“When I'm too lazy to walk,” one of them says, “he picks me up like a baby and carries me where I need to go.

“And my dad always calms me down, even if my mom gets mad at me, for example, for bad grades,” says another girl.

- My patronymic is Alekseevna, because my father's name is Aleksey, - says the third and shares her discovery. - The very word "patronymic" from the word "father".

At the end of the “Conversation about the Important” dedicated to Father's Day, we ask Alexander Stefantsov to give feedback on how meaningful the dialogue turned out to be.

“It is clear that the holiday is still relatively new,” he says. Not everyone has gotten used to it. The format of free communication, in my opinion, is very good, the guys were able to discuss issues related to work and development, as well as relationships. As in any class, in any lesson, someone is active, others listen more, but even in such cases, I'm sure something is stored in the memory.

The decree of the President of the Russian Federation on the establishment of Father's Day specifies that the holiday is approved in order to strengthen the institution of the family and increase the importance of fatherhood in raising children.

This is how the morning passed in Moscow School No. 518. The school has entered another school week. From the director's office there is a door to the balcony. The sun's rays glare on the surface of the Moscow River. I notice ducks on the water surface.

I wonder where they go when the river freezes over?

Arslan Khasavov

Help

October's Talking About Things will be followed by Music Day (October 17), Traditional Family Values ​​(October 24), and National Unity Day (October 31).

By right of memory - Tvardovsky. The full text of the poem - By the right of memory

Closing the lessons of age,
The thought comes by itself -
To everyone with whom it was on the road,
Treat the living and the fallen.
It's not the first time she comes.
So that the word has double control:
Where, perhaps, the living will remain silent,
So they will interrupt me:
- Allow me!
In the face of bygone past
You have no right to prevaricate, -
After all, these were paid
We pay the biggest . ..
And let there be that outpost for me,
That strict sign of the guard
The pledge of the cunning speech
By the right of living memory.

1. Before departure

Do you remember, on a pre-autumn night,
It’s already been decades, -
We smoked with you in the hay,
Despising the fearful prohibition.

And they didn’t close their eyes until the light,
Although the smell of hay was not the same,
That on the stuffy nights of July
It doesn’t let me sleep for a long time ...

Now reading someone’s lines aloud, a distant way
From his first youth.

We did not experience sadness,
Friends are a thinker and a poet.
Throwing our backwoods
In exchange for a whole wide world.

We lived with a cherished plan,
suddenly seize
To all sciences -
With all their countless reserves -
And don't let go.

The spirit of doubt was unknown to us;
We will manage with this good
And for our fathers and grandfathers
In addition, we will get it . ..

We repeated that adversity
We do not care,
But we ourselves were waiting only for happiness -
That was taught by age.

We knew that it would be a hundredfold
It should repay our impulse
Dive right into the wisdom of the world,
Turn it to the bottom.

We were ready to go.
What could be simpler:
Don't lie.
Don't be cowardly.
Be faithful to the people.
To love the mother earth,
To go through fire and water for her.
And if -
Then give your life.

What's easier!
Let us leave
intact.
Just from myself, now let's add:
Which is simpler - yes.
But what is more difficult?

Such were our distances,
As it seemed to us, without embellishment,
When in an unbridled passion
We tried to convince each other of this,
We didn't argue about anything.

And talking to our heart's content about science,
We dreamed together about that,
Oh, and about what kind of trousers we were wearing
We'll come home later.

Marvel, father, cry, dear,
What kind of guest did God inflict,
How will he pass, spreading
The Moscow smell of cigarettes.

Moscow, the capital is not near light,
And you, dear side,
How you were, deaf, motionless,
We should be waiting for a visit.

And farm gatherings,
And parties in succession,
And so that the girls from Zagorye
Eating us with their eyes,
Embarrassingly shoved their hands at us,
Blazing with paint up to the ears ...

And there would be somewhere two girlfriends,
In the walls of the capital
With tender reproach they expected
Already that hour you and I,
How we were in our hayloft
Thinking about our departure ...

You didn't forget how at dawn
They informed us, friends,
About the summer leaving in autumn
Songs of young cockerels.

Their voices are a chick's anguish
There, behind the straw eaves -
He responded with children's crying
And together with dashing prowess.

In some kind of stifled sadness,
With their earnest hoarseness
They seemed to be singing a funeral service
The end of our childish days.

As if by force themselves
Ritual pulled out a tale
About something memorable that was
Before us.
And it will be after us.

But then we were in the hayloft
We didn't listen to them like that,
We yawned sweetly,
Wondering that it was daytime and we weren't sleeping.

And in our pre-departure hour
There were no foreshadowings,
What gifts we had in store
Fate had on sweat.

And where, which of us will have to,
In what year, in what region
Behind that rooster, that hoarseness
Hear your youth.

Towards our longed-for share
We rushed to the path not at random -
She, in accordance with our will
Called to taste the bread and salt.
How long ago?
Life ago...

2. The son does not answer for the father

The son does not answer for the father -
Five words in a row, exactly five.
But what they contain in themselves,
You young people cannot suddenly embrace.

They were dropped in the Kremlin hall
The one who was one for all of us
The arbiter of the earthly fate,
Whom the people called
At celebrations the father of the family.

To you —
From another generation —
Barely comprehend to depth
Those words are short revelations
For the guilty without guilt.

You will not be embarrassed in any profile
Once an ominous column:
Who was before you in the world
Your father, dead or alive.

In the midnight gatherings
That question didn't bother you:
You didn't choose your father, —
The answer is simple today.

But in those years and five years,
Who was not lucky with the graph -
For an indelible mark
Substitute meekly brow.

To wear it with shame and burning torment
- such is the law.
To be always at hand - in case
Lack of class enemies.
Ready to be tortured in public
And sometimes to bitter bitterness,
When your bosom friend
At the same time, he does not raise his eyes ...

Oh, the years of unsweet youth,
Her cruel troubles.
That was the father, then suddenly he is the enemy.
And mother?
But it is said: two worlds,
And nothing about mothers...

And here, where - after the flood
Those years - you hurried barefoot,
You are called a brat,
Not even a son, but a son ...

And how can a boy live with that nickname,
,
Not from a book
The author of these lines interprets ...

You are here, son, but you are not from here,
What else is the reason for you,
When your parent is too small,
Included in the same list.

If only you had such leaven
Dreamed of stepping into the forbidden circle.

And he shakes your hand cautiously
Your bosom friend...
And suddenly:
The son does not answer for his father.

That badge has now been removed from you.
A hundred times happy:
I did not expect, I did not expect,
And suddenly - I am not to blame for anything.

The end of your dashing hardships,
Stay upbeat, don't hide your face.
Give thanks to the father of nations,
That he forgave your father
Native —
with an unexpected ease
The curse has been lifted. As if he
Unknown and strange to him
Beheld and repealed the law.

(Yes, he knew how without reservations,
Suddenly - as soon as it bakes -
Any of his miscalculations heap
Transfer to someone's account;
To someone's enemy's distortion
What the covenant proclaimed,
To someone's dizziness
From the victories he predicted.)
Son for father? Doesn't answer!
Amen!
And as if unaware:
What if that son (and not son!),
Receiving such rights,
And could he answer for his father?

Reply - let it not come from science,
Let it come from the wrong end,
And only, maybe, remembering the hands,
What were the father.
In knots of veins and tendons,
In knots of gnarled fingers -
Those that - with a sigh - like strangers,
Sitting down at the table, he laid it on the table.
And it used to be like a rake,
Clinging
spoons to the handle,
So evasive and small,
He couldn’t grab it right away.
Those hands that by their own will -
Neither unbend nor clenched into a fist:
There were no individual calluses -
Solid.
Truly a fist!
And not otherwise, with that calculation
Gorbel for years above the earth,
Sprinkled with his free sweat,
Closed dawn with dawn over it.
And I’ll add from myself,
What, perhaps, in the hour of trouble itself
His peasant vanity,
Oh, how it leapt - my God!

And in those parts where frost hung
From the barrack walls and ceiling,
He may have been full of pride,
That he suddenly passed for a fist.

Error out? Don't tell me, -
he inspired himself, -
If so, then - a resident,
Master, then - because . ..

Or maybe in great anguish
He left his house and yard
And rejected the blind and wild,
For a round number, a sentence.

And in the crowd of a horse carriage,
What was carrying somewhere beyond the Urals,
He kept himself proudly, aloof
From those whose share he shared.

In bulk with them in that car -
In one tied cart,
Children reaching out to their edge
He didn’t allow it, melting a tear ... ,
Again to the enemy's mill. -
How long, Lord, how long
I can hear the echo of ancient years:
Neither those mills nor bell towers
A long time ago in the world there.)

From their gloating or plight
Hiding behind a hunchbacked back,
Among the enemies of Soviet power
One, that glorified this power;
Her naked assistant,
Her support and fighter,
That on the long-awaited land
With her, he finally healed -
He, thrown into death by her,
Did not reproach her with evil:
After all, the point is not in a small inflection,
When — The Great Break…

And I believed: everything will fall into place
And it won’t slow down the recount,
As soon as Stalin personally
In the Kremlin, his letter will be read… ask,
Not Lenin, not even Kalinin
Was the addressee of all Rus'
But the one who, for the purposes of communism
Showed a different scope already
And on newspaper pages
Read entire letters from the republics -
Not only in prose, but in verse. )

Or maybe it's different
The man decided his fate:
If there are no ways back to the house,
We will not get lost in any region.

Decided - attempt without loss,
Let's follow our own decree.
And - be kind, Mount Magnitka,
Enroll us in the working class ...

But how and where the father will land,
It's not about the father, it's about the son:
The son does not answer for the father -
Provide him with a way.

Five brief words…
But year after year
Those words faded away,
And the title son of an enemy of the people
Already under them came into the rights.

And beyond one line of the law
Fate already equaled everyone:
The son of a fist or the son of a people's commissar,
The son of a commander or a priest ...

The stigma from birth marked
A baby of enemy blood.
And everything seemed to be lacking
The land of branded sons.

Not without reason during the bloody war
Another blessed her:
Without reproaching him with guilt,
That bitter soul burned with poison,
War provided the right
To death and even a share of glory
In the ranks of the fighters of the native land.

Granted the title of a son
Military unit to a soldier…

One was a terrible fate:
In the battle, the abyss was missing.

And having lived to the end
That way of the cross, half-dead -
From captivity to captivity - under the thunder of victory
Follow double with a stigma.

No, you never guessed
In your destiny, motherland,
Gather such an army under the sky of Magadan
Your sons.

Didn't know,
Where did it all start,
When did she manage to bring up
All that she kept behind a wire,
Beyond that zone, dear mother...

Among our holidays and weekdays
Not everyone could even remember,
With what regulations to mortal people
The visiting god called them.

He said: follow me,
Leave your father and your mother,
Leave everything fleeting, earthly
Leave - and you will be in paradise.

And we, boasting of disbelief in God,
In the name of our own shrines
They strictly demanded that sacrifice:
Reject your father and reject your mother.

Forget where you came from,
And realize, do not argue:
To the detriment of love for the father of nations -
Any other love.

The task is clear, the deed is sacred -
With that - straight to the highest goal.
Betray your brother on the way
And secretly your best friend.

And the soul with human feelings
Do not burden yourself by sparing yourself.
And testify falsely in the name,
And atrocity in the name of the leader.

Grateful to any fate,
Solidify one thing, how great he is,
Even if you were a Crimean Tatar,
Ingush or a Kalmyk friend of the steppes.

Applause to all sentences,
Which are not given to comprehend.
Slander the people with whom
are thrown into exile at the same time.

And in the stuffy throng of outcomes —
No, not biblical, our days —
Praise the father of nations:
He is above all.
He knows better.
He proclaims all beginnings
And all ends, of course.

The son does not answer for the father -
Law, which also means:
The father for the son - with his head.

But extinguished all laws
For the most good night.
And he is not the defendant for his son,
Oh, neither for his son, nor for his daughter.

There, by the silent wall of the Kremlin,
Fortunately, he does not know,
What a dashing father's misfortune
His afterlife is covered with... the judgment lasts for decades,
And the end is not yet in sight.

3. About memory

Forget, silently order to forget,
They want to drown in oblivion
Living story. And so that the waves of
would close over her. Reality - forget!

Forgetting relatives and friends
And so many fates the way of the cross -
All that is a long-standing dream,
Bad, wild fiction,
So go and forget it.

But it was an obvious reality
For those whose century was cut off,
For those who became camp dust,
As someone once said.

Forget - oh no, not with those together
Forget that they did not come from the war -
One that even this honor
Harsh were deprived.

They order to forget and ask for kindness
Do not remember - a memory under seal,
So that inadvertently that publicity
Do not embarrass the uninitiated.

Forget about mothers and wives,
Of their own - who did not know their guilt,
About children separated from them,
And before the war,
And without war.
And speaking of the uninitiated:
Where can I get them? All are dedicated.

Everyone knows everything; trouble with the people! -
Not by that, they know it by birth,
Not by marks and scars,
So in passing, in passing,
Not by himself,
So through those who by themselves...

And they think in vain that memory
Does not value itself,
That the duckweed of time will drag out
Any reality,
Any pain;

That this way and that — the planet flies,
Counting down years and days,
And what is not exacted from the poet,
When, behind the ghost of the ban
Keep silent about what burns the soul…

No, all past omissions
Duty to say orders.
Inquisitive daughter-Komsomol member
Go and agree on your glavlit;

Explain why and whose guardianship
Classified as closed
of the Unnamed Age Bad memory of the case;

What, not included in the order,
Decided for us
Special congress
On this sleepless memory,
Just on it
Put an end to it.

And who said that adults
cannot read other pages?
Or will our valor fade
And honor will fade in the world?

Or, having told aloud about the past,
We will only please the enemy,
What victory is worth paying for our own
Did it happen to us at exorbitant prices?

Are we new to his slander?
Or everything that we are strong in the world,
With all the newness we have grown,
And then watered and blood,
Not worth the price anymore?
And our cause is only a dream,
And glory is the noise of empty rumors?

Then the silent ones are right,
Then everything is dust - poetry and prose,
Everything is just like that - from the head.

Then it’s not at all surprising,
That the voice of true memory
Would tell us trouble in the future:
Who hides the past jealously,
He is unlikely to be in harmony with the future ...

What is now considered big, what is small -
Who knows, but people are not grass:
Do not turn them all in bulk
Into some who do not remember kinship.

Let the eyewitnesses of the generation
Quietly descend to the bottom,
Prosperous oblivion
Our nature is not given.

Others just said,
As if we were talking about a rainy day.

But everything that was is not forgotten,
Not hidden in the world.
One untruth to our loss,
And only the truth to the court!

And I - not the same years -
I have no right to defer myself
Grant.
A mountain off your shoulders -
Still in time without delay
Put dumb pain into words.

The pain that is hidden at times
And in the old days it cramped our hearts
And that we drowned out with thunder
Applause in honor of the father.

With utmost force in every hall
They thundered because
We always applauded more than one
That father.

It always seemed to be there,
Who passed his earthly shift.
He who did not like applause,
At least knew their price.

Whose image is eternal and living
The world saved beyond the mortal,
Whom his teacher
The father humbly called...

And, roughly doubling names,
We proclaimed them as one
And entered them on the tablets.
As if the essence was one.

And the fear that everyone is at the head
Dashing time set,
We were taught to keep silence
Before revelry unkindness.

Ordered in our voiceless share
On the thought of handing over the rights to the special sector,

Since then - as a response to a long-standing pain
It is for us - come as soon as possible.
No, give us the sign of the supreme will,
Give the revelation of the deity.

And prepare a special sigh -
The daring of our limit:
Now, if Lenin had risen from the coffin,
He looked at everything that had become ...

He would have seen the breadth and depth behind all the little things.
Or maybe shrugged
And would drop:
- Well, well! -

So, this and that guess,
Anticipating this or that court, -
Like children who have played enough,
What kind of absence the elders are waiting for.

But everything that has become or will become,
We will not surrender, we will not sell from our hands,
And Lenin will not stand up to judge us:
He was not a god even alive.

And what are you striving for now
To return the former grace,
That's what you call Stalin -
He was a god - He can get up.

And that he is easy to remember
In the sublunar world, God the Father,
This is evidenced now
Its Chinese pattern...

... Well, let it be in the hayloft,
Where we rejected sleep that night,
Our distances seemed different, —
We cannot grieve reason.

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