Let this be your wall of brass, to have nothing on your conscience, no guilt to make you turn pale.
HoraceI have lived: tomorrow the Father may fill the sky with black clouds or with cloudless sunshine.
HoraceLet this be your wall of brass, to have nothing on your conscience, no guilt to make you turn pale.
HoraceI have lived: tomorrow the Father may fill the sky with black clouds or with cloudless sunshine.
Horace