ThursdayNov 21, 2024
Quotes: 53419 Authors: 9969
The violet droops its soft and bashful brow, But from its heart sweet incense fills the air; So rich within - so pure without - art thou, With modest mien and soul of virtue rare.
Work for some good, be it ever so slowly; Cherish some flower, be it ever so lowly; Labor - all labor is noble and holy.
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