"Sleep softly, my true love, and when you wake, this will be over and I will joke you out of trying to learn details of the triste métier of war and we will go to buy the little negro or moor, carved in ebony with his fine features, and his jeweled turban." ⎯Ernest Hemingway, Across the River and Into the Trees, Chapter 34
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AuthorCharles Pearson CategoriesArchives
May 2020
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