trashy cymbals
And when they have got the world Martianized, when they’ve started a race here with minds like their own and yet with bodies fit for earth, when they have practically interbred with us and ousted our strain, then they’ll begin to send along their treasures, their apparatus—grafting their life on ours.
The kind of women who put papers on shelves and had little towels like that instinctively distrusted and disliked Mack and the boys. Such women knew that they were the worst threats to a home, for they offered ease and thought and companionship as opposed to neatness, order, and properness.
The moaning of their voices seemed to me to be like what is understood in Scotland by a sugh, and might very well have passed for a hushaby, when the nurse had nearly succeeded in murmuring herself to sleep, as well as her infant.
sugh,
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