At times, he thought he could see heaving masses of men. He hurried on in the dusk. The day had faded until he could barely distinguish place for his feet.Oh, late 19th-/early 20th-century novels! How I hunger for your simple sentence structure! How I long for paragraphs that begin and end on the same page! We can run away together and neither of us will ever see a semicolon again.
Then again, I am a sucker for adjectives. It would never work out between us. Besides, you'd drag me toward Hemingway, and I don't want to go there.
For now, I will content myself with Audie Murphy and a nice, fat monograph on French-Algonquian relations in the mid-to-late 17th century.
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