What did Dad think, I wondered, after showing and selling all those painstakingly cleaned, repainted, and remodeled houses every day, when he came home to ours? Was he blind to the Havisham-esque decay? Or did he find the evidence of time’s passage comforting, a reminder that there would be an end to the sadness he endured just as there would be an end to the house, to all the sad things people lived in and lived through?

Instead, French as vehicular language offers immigrants a passport to the Quebecois public sphere, a means of breaking their imposed silence and of expressing their differential “Quebecois-ness”[…]

By organized effort, farmers were struggling to catch step with the economy – so Dr. Taylor argues.

In the meantime I must briefly refer to the doubt that has often been raised about the utility of minute measurements, deep studies of physical anthropology, statistical tables, and elaborate maps,