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Her Nazirites were purer than the snow, whiter than milk. They were more ruddy in body than the red precious stones. They were polished sapphire.

Now, their visage is blacker than coal. They are unrecognizable in the streets. Their skin clings to their bones. It is withered, like a stick.

Those who are killed with the sword are better than those who are killed with hunger. For they fade away, stricken through by the fruits of the field.

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