Like everyone else, I've had moments when I've felt that I've been losing my grip.
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.
What's worth doing is worth doing for money.
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