“My soul was a burden, bruised and bleeding. It was tired of the man who carried it, but I found no place to set it down to rest. Neither the charms of the countryside nor the sweet scents of a garden could soothe it. It found ..company of friends at a table or in pleasures of love, none even in books or poetry....where could my heart find refuge from itself? Where could I go , yet leave myself behind.”
— Sep 25, 2018 06:18AM
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