This room feels like an oven. And this is London at 8pm in September.
Happy the man,and happy he alone, He,who can call today his own; He who,secure within,can say, Tomorrow do thy worst,for I have lived today.
Happy the man,and happy he alone, He,who can call today his own; He who,secure within,can say, Tomorrow do thy worst,for I have lived today.
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