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December 2, 2024

If my praise her grace effaces,
Then ’tis not my heart that showeth,
But the skilless tongue that soweth
Words unworthy of her graces.
Tongue, that hath me so betrayed,
Were my heart but here displayed,
Then were sung her fitting praises.

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Thought:

“It is because I dove into the abyss that I am beginning to love the abyss I am made of.”

Clarice Lispector

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