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Sharp and fell remorse, the offspring of my sin! Why do you, O God, lacerate my heart so late? Why, O boding cries, that scream so close to me,--why do I listen to you now, and never heard you before?
— Pietro Metastasio
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Passion is begotten of passion, and it easily happens, as with the children of great men, that the base is the offspring of the noble.
— John Lancaster Spalding
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