Some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrust upon them.
“The man that hath no music in himself, Nor is not moved with concord of sweet sounds, is fit for treasons, stratagems and spoils.”
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Love is a smoke made with the fume of sighs.
When a father gives to his son, both laugh when a son gives to his father, both cry.
Now, God be praised, that to believing souls gives light in darkness, comfort in despair.