Special Ones Too
“Now is the winter of our discontent Made glorious summer by this sun of York*; And all the clouds that lowered upon our house In the deep bosom of the ocean buried. Now are our brows bound with victorious wreaths, Our bruisèd arms hung up for monuments, Our stern alarums changed to merry meetings, Our dreadful marches to delightful measures.” Richard III – William Shakespeare About three weeks ago, following…