My arm hung over the counterpane, and the nameless, unimaginable, silent form or phantom, to which the hand belonged, seemed closely seated by my bed-side.
The fencers lunged and parried their way to a Western Canadian Intervarsity Athletic Union championship.
Our conversation was short and sweet / It nearly swept me off-a my feet
About ten days ago, I blegged for comments about great conservative novels — NRO readers now have posted more than 200 entries here [hyperlink redacted].
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