Nahum, 3
17. your garrisons, like locusts, and your marshals, like swarms of hoppers! They settle on the walls when the day is cold. The sun appears, the locusts spread their wings, they fly away,away they fly, no one knows where. Alas,
17. your garrisons, like locusts, and your marshals, like swarms of hoppers! They settle on the walls when the day is cold. The sun appears, the locusts spread their wings, they fly away,away they fly, no one knows where. Alas,
“É difícil tornar-se santo. Difícil, mas não impossível. A estrada da perfeição é longa, tão longa quanto a vida de cada um. O consolo é o repouso no decorrer do caminho. Mas, apenas restauradas as forças, é necessário levantar-se rapidamente e retomar a viagem!” São Padre Pio de Pietrelcina