How broad, amid those pines, the torch-flame red / Flings its dark flashes; and those steps, that fall, / Heavy, and slow, no voice amid their call, / Sound, like the giant-stridings of the dead!
Put it in a covered shoebox and seek out a veterinarian or find a licensed and trained wildlife rehabilitator.
1991: ‘You’re a classic anal-retentive,’ he says, ‘tirelessly absorbed by minutiae, anankastic in the extreme – it’s lucky you have me to deal with the broad sweep of things, to do the abstract thinking.’ — Will Self, ‘Mono-Cellular’, The Quantity Theory of Insanity
Each night, in less than three hours, the superhub sorts and transfers more than a million packages between connecting flights […]
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