What's wonderful is to read the different translations - some done in 1600 and some in 1900 - of the same passage. It's fascinating to watch the same tale repeated in such a different way by two different centuries.

How wisely fate ordain'd for human kind Calamity! which is the perfect glass, Wherein we truly see and know ourselves.

Blushes are the rainbow of modesty.

It doesn't set off any alarm bells. As is typical with T. Rowe, no transition comes about abruptly; they tend to be planned pretty well.

Most of us wait until we're in trouble, and then we pray like the dickens. Wonder what would happen if, some morning, we'd wake up and say, "Anything I can do for You today, Lord?"

Keep strong if possible; in any case, keep cool.

It's never safe to be nostalgic about something until you're absolutely certain there's no chance of its coming back