Treat my book as a pair of glasses directed to the outside; if they don’t suit you, find another pair; I leave it to you to find your own instrument, which is necessarily an investment for combat.
“So sing that other song I made, Half anger’d with my happy lot, The day, when in the chestnut shade I found the blue Forget-me-not.”
Alfred, Lord Tennyson | “The Miller’s Daughter”
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