Ed liked to pore through his old photographs, looking back over moments of his life quick-frozen in time.
He could work himself into a great froth over the environmentalists, or “posy sniffers,” as he called them.
And further, by these, my sonne, be admonished: of making many bookes there is no end, and much studie is a wearinesse of the flesh.
a preindustrial nation
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