Sagan faced an excruciating dilemma: Should he remain true to his naturalistic philosophy and reject the marrow graft as something acquired by immoral means? Or should he agree to undergo the medical treatment in hope of saving his life
What I know / Is ruminated, plotted, and set down.
He is one motherfreaking mean dude.
But then I had the [massive] flintlock by me for protection. […] The linen-press and a chest on the top of it formed, however, a very good gun-carriage; and, thus mounted, aim could be taken out of the window[…], and a 'bead' could be drawn upon Molly, the dairymaid, kissing the fogger behind the hedge, little dreaming that the deadly tube was levelled at them.
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