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Riches I hold in light esteem,
And love I laugh to scorn;
And lust of fame was but a dream,
That vanished with the morn :
And if I pray, the only prayer
That moves my lips for me
Is, "Leave the heart that now I bear
And give me liberty!"
Yes, as my swift days near their goal:
'Tis all that I implore;
In life and death a chainless soul,
With courage to endure.
Emily Bronte, The Old Stoic
1 comentário:
Um pouco melancólico, não?... :)
Mas as almas independentes merecem estima, de facto!
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