Know ye now, Bulkington? Glimpses do ye seem to see of that mortally intolerable truth; that all deep, earnest thinking is but the intrepid effort of the soul to keep the open independence of her sea; …
And stifle them we must to play the role, voices steady, manners nonchalant, amid the torrents of profanities and soul-shrinking depravities that bubble up in a mainstream without margins
So they rung him up, and the next day he came to me and wanted to know where that pitch was.
He merely got tantalizing scraps of information flung at him from the boundary wall of faydom.
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