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Mac10

  • From a father to his son

    No august prophet could have augured,Nor honest author could have portrayed,The plangent sky that morning rang,The plagal tone those mourners sang.I speak forebodingly, Foreknowingly.The pangs of grie

    1 min read


Don't go around saying the world owes you a living; the world owes you nothing; it was here first.
— Mark Twain