In eight terse lines has Phædrus told / (So frugal were the Bards of old) / A Tale of Goats; and clos'd with grace / Plan, Moral, all, in that ſhort space.
All old people and many sick people were drawn, were it only for a foot or two, into the open air, and prognosticated pleasant things about the course of the world.
'You're damn right I am,' declares Ron in a cringy American accent, grabbing Andrea in a showy embrace.
The parrot was sitting on Jim's shoulder.
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