When Evening Comes, I Return Home And Go Into My Study. On The Threshold I Strip Off My Muddy, Sweaty Clothes Of Everyday, And Put On The Robes Of Court And Palace, And In This Graver Dress I Enter The Antique Courts Of The Ancients And Am Welcomed By Them, And There I Taste The Food That Alone Is Mine, And For Which I Was Born. And There I Make Bold To Speak To Them And Ask The Motives Of Their Actions, And They, In Their Humanity, Reply To Me. And For The Space Of Four Hours I Forget The World, Remember No Vexation, Fear Poverty No More, Tremble No More At Death; I Pass Indeed Into Their World.
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When Evening Comes, I Return Home And
Niccolo Machiavelli
When Evening Comes, I Return Home And Go Into My Study. On The Threshold I Strip Off My Muddy, Sweaty Clothes Of Everyday, And Put On The Robes Of Court And Palace, And In This Graver Dress I Enter The Antique Courts Of The Ancients And Am Welcomed By Them, And There I Taste The Food That Alone Is Mine, And For Which I Was Born. And There I Make Bold To Speak To Them And Ask The Motives Of Their Actions, And They, In Their Humanity, Reply To Me. And For The Space Of Four Hours I Forget The World, Remember No Vexation, Fear Poverty No More, Tremble No More At Death; I Pass Indeed Into Their World.
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