Truth. Goodness. Beauty. Yarn
From earth’s wide bounds, from ocean’s farthest coast, Through gates of pearl streams in the countless host, Singing to Father, Son and Holy Ghost—Alleluia, Alleluia! — William Walsham How, For All the Saints While this would sound extremely odd at any of the “I’m thankful for…” routines that will surely be going down (and rightly …
For it was the beginning of what the papers call the Holiday Rush. London and its young, like Xenophon’s Ten Thousand, were heading for the sea. — P. G. Wodehouse, Hot Water It’s that time again—all my local stores are festooned in tinsel, string lights, and plastic Christmas trees, some more obviously fake than others …