The world is charged with the grandeur of God. It will flame out, like shining from shook foil. It gathers to a greatness, like the ooze of oil Crushed. Whey do men then now not reck his rod? … — Gerard Manly Hopkins
Dear Abby: My father is a businessman who travels. Each time he returns from one of his trips, his shoes and trousers are covered with blood—but he never forgets to bring me a nice present. Should I say something? Signed, America. — Tony Hoagland
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