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I am the basis of all wealth, the heritage of the wise, the thrifty, and the prudent.
I am the poor man’s joy and comfort, the rich man’s prize, the right hand of capital, the silent partner of successful men and women.
I am the solace of the widow, the comfort of old age, the cornerstone of security against misfortune and want.
I am handed down to children, through generations, as a thing of greatest worth.
I am the choicest fruit of toil.
Credit respects me.
Yet I am humble.
I stand before everyman bidding him to know me for what I am and possess me.
I grow and increase in value through countless days.
Though I seem dormant my worth increases, never failing, never ceasing; time is my aid and population heaps up my gain.
Fire and the elements I defy, for they cannot destroy me; invariably I become envied.
While other things wither and decay, I survive.
The centuries find me younger, increasing in strength.
The thriftless speak ill of me.
The charlatans of finance attack me.
I am trustworthy, I am sound.
Unfailingly I triumph and detractors are disproved.
Minerals and oils come from me. I am producer of food, the basis of ships and factories, the foundation of banks.
Yet I am so common that thousands unthinking and unknowing pass me by.
I am Real Estate.
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