I am a small room but no life lives inside, no matter what weather looms, very cold my residents reside. What am I?
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I Wasn’t Born a Horse and I Never Fly
I wasn’t born a horse and I never fly. Yet sometimes I still soar, right into the sky. I often contain breath, and yet I never die. Sometimes I am torn, but I never sigh. Often, with ambition, I aspire, and go till I can go no higher. Then, like many men, so great, I sink into a low state. What am I?
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