I'll in to counsel them; haply my presence May well abate the over-merry spleen, Which otherwise would grow into extremes.

I didn't think it at all strange that a thirteen-year-old boy in the unreconstructed Southern town of Stamps spoke with an Englishy accent.

Freedom itself ages; it is not eternal, though perhaps it brings us to a border between time and eternity. Ethical selving is in the between time, the interim of the aging of freedom. Freedom, of course, seems the catch cry of modernity.

Of tame villatic Fowl;