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Norway To Minnesota

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"His morning ritual, conducted in that silence and dim light, made each day seem holy.  And each day when he stepped from their home he did so feeling devout...Odd who had decided early in that season and in the face of Sargent's sermons that he'd take his heaven on earth.  And he'd found it in his and Rebekah's domesticity, in their quiet and honest life together.  He'd never felt so at peace, not even during his best moments in the skiff." http://petergeye.com/

Life Can Turn Many Different Ways

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Latin quotes are running through my mind. Words that I can neither pronounce nor translate. Still, I have a good feel for St. Oswald's church of school for boys. In "Different Class" by Joanne Harris, it is impossible to keep one's emotions locked away or hidden. First, I have to congratulate the author for taking on one issue which branched into many other subjects. It's a coming of age story. It's the one our children might have never shared with us. It's about their schools whether public or private. It's about their friends and their professors or teachers. The novel brings to the forefront the fact that after we let our child walk into a kindergarten class or even a nursery we lose a part of them. A part of their life no longer belongs to us. Perhaps, it's the beginning of learning about secrets. It's about obedience and what is not disobedience. So many issues that cause the heart to beat fa

Book Beginnings

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September 1981 Dear Mousey, Fun facts About Murder: Use Coca-Cola to clean up blood spills. The combination of ascorbic acid and carbonated water actually digests the blood, leaving no trace of evidence. This seems like a frightening opening to a novel involving a boys school, a church school. I feel as though something dreary and horrible is going to happen within the pages of  "Different Class" by Joanne Harris. rosecityreader.com        

Let's clean out the Jails. Let's fill them with whomever is easiest to catch. Their innocence doesn't matter.

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East Texas is a place where there are good times and bad times. In "Bluebird, Bluebird" by Attica Locke, there are really awful days for people like Geneva, the owner of the cafe, Joe, her husband, and Darren, a Texas Ranger, and others I haven't named like the visiting Law student, Michael. This novel involves more than one crime and I mention Geneva, first because she will experience both horrible incidents personally. Both crimes touched my heart. However, I felt more touched by the double homicide. It happens six years than the bayou murders. It involves a black man and a white woman. There springs alive a bed of hatred or more specifically racism. No dirty rice, okra or catfish can calm the nerves of the community. The special dish seems to give only energy to the body to scream and cry and wonder why. There isn't a race riot. There is just the knowledge of Darren, the Texas Ranger, and the relatives that the case needs solving quickly. Before th

Choose Susan Vreeland as your companion to the art museum

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" 'An eye like a blue pearl,' was what my father said. And then he died. During a winter's first snowfall, just like this." http://www.svreeland  

I seem always to come to death's door and stop!

Sleeping Beauty was awakened with a kiss. In Mary Ashley Townsend's poem "Creed," a woman, I think, not a man is awakened not only from a long sleep but from death. The real sleep which is described as "cold" and like someone living in "exile" is romantic and not dreary. If I think of a realocation, I remember descriptions of  Siberia.  It is her lover's love that awakens her. She "gladly" feels herself awake from the strange, unknown place of death. It is thought of as an isle. This seems like such a romantic poem. However, If I think of prose, I think of "The House of Ushers" by Edgar Allan Poe? I'm not sure whether it was love that awakened her or something else. There are two words in this stanza that puzzle me. What does the poet mean by "folded orbs?" let's see if I can print the stanza here with the two words that are puzzling to me. poemhunter.com/poem/creed-13/                                  

The Bridal Chair by Gloria Goldreich

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"Ida, my dear, you don't really believe that fascism can survive in the land of liberte', e'galite', et fraternite'?"   gloriagoldreich.com