The Mohar had chosen his road, and he never turned back when once he had begun a journey.
ETEXT EDITOR'S BOOKMARKS:
Blossom of the thorny wreath of sorrow
Eyes kind and frank, without tricks of glance
Money is a pass-key that turns any lock
Repugnance for the old laws began to take root in his heart
Thou canst say in words what we can only feel
Whether the form of our benevolence does more good or mischief