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Men at some time are masters of their fates: The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars, But in ourselves, that we are underlings.’
“I’m just the librarian. I can only give you the books. I can’t give you the answers.”
“He’s not a burden.” “Oh, yes he is. He makes you weak, which makes him dangerous.” “He makes me strong, which is only dangerous to you.”
