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Timothy’s mother, pale but smiling, raised a cup of weak tea. “To my son,” she said, “who works for a man made of stone, but who remains made of light.” poveste de craciun de charles dickens.pdf text
“I am the Ghost of Christmas Past That Cannot Return,” she said. “And you, Uncle Silas, have forgotten what it is to be small.” Poți găsi textul în limba română pe următoarele