Aye. That’s exactly what I thought when we were first told of the tale. Buried in the island of the dead that which cannot be found except by those who already knows where it is. Find it, we did. And there be the chest… and inside, be the gold. We took them all! Spent ’em, traded ’em and fritted ’em away, for drink and food and pleasurable company. But the more we gave them away, the more we came to realize. The drink would not satisfy, food turned to ash in our mouths, nor the company in the world would harm or slake our lust. We are cursed men, Miss Turner. Compelled by greed, we were. But now, we are consumed by it.
THE PIRATES OF THE CARIBBEAN
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