Don’t sing love songs, you’ll wake my mother
She’s sleeping here right by my side
And in her right hand a silver dagger,
She says that ...
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"We have a choice of two identities: the external mask which seems to be real and which lives by a shadowy autonomy for the brief moment of earthy existence."
I first read Merton, a cloistered monk at the Abbey of Gethsemani in rural Kentucky for most of his life, as a student and was instantly besotted with his unique mix of humanity and holiness.
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