When she shall die, Take her and cut her out in little stars, And she will make the face of heaven so fine That all the world will be in love with night, And pay no worship to the garish sun. Scene 2, Romeo and Juliet William Shakespeare
Even in our sleep, pain which cannot forget falls drop by drop upon the heart, until, in our own despair, against our will, comes wisdom through the awful grace of God. Aeschylus
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