Isn't it nice not to have to compartmentalize yourself?
I once stole a book. It was really just the once, and at the time I called it borrowing. It was 1970, and the book, I could see by its lack of date stamps, had been lying unappreciated on the shelves of my convent school library since its publication in 1945.
A deception that elevates us is dearer than a host of low truths.
For un-subscribe please check the mail footer.