She couldn't avoid being serious about things she cared for, and happiness made her grave at the thought of all the things which might destroy it.
Graham GreeneAbout author
- Author's profession: Playwright, Writer
- Nationality: british
- Born: October 2, 1904
- Died: April 3, 1991
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Poor naked wretches, whereso'er you are, That bide the pelting of this pitiless storm, How shall your houseless heads and unfed sides, Your loop'd and window'd raggedness, defend you. From seasons such as these? O, I have ta'en. Too little care of this! Take physic, pomp; Expose thyself to feel what wretches feel, That thou mayst shake the superflux to them, And show the heavens more just.
William Shakespeare