Primeval Worſhip, Lord, retrieve, / For whoſe Decays the Faithful grieve, / For as thy Temple-Off'rings fall or riſe, / Hymnody chills or fires, Religion lives or dies.
[…] to me it was encouragingly romantic to be recommended to a remailleuse […] whose shoplet was en face de la Tour de Charlemagne, Madame.
en face de la Tour de Charlemagne, Madame.
A druggie would grab the pricey electronics and such, and beat feet.
It was raining. She was over there, crouched despairingly beneath the awning of that shop. She wanted to be elsewhere, but the moisture lay in wait to damage her hat.
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