Word: gratefully
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...Alexandria, Dumbartonshire, in a "but and ben"-two rooms in a row of brick tenements on Gray Street, near the factory. The back parlor was used only on occasions such as Christmas and other holidays; otherwise the family lived in the front room, Mrs. Reston cooking over a grate, the two children, Jimmy and his elder sister (by four years) Joan, sleeping crosswise at the foot...
...entire concept of guidance is sure to grate on any Harvard student, who traditionally prizes his independence, and who scoffs at other Ivy Leaguers and more distant colleagues who are still spoon-fed by a bevy of counselors, advisors, and deans. At Harvard, freedom is an almost sacred word, with individualism only slightly less exalted. But freedom implies responsibility, which is not so often thought of. During the college years, new freedoms appear at a bewildering rate, and inevitably some cannot be immediately coped with. There is freedom of time and of action in great quantities. The student usually makes...
...self-righteousness which Our Lord so often terribly rebuked." But we have no right to assume "that the Psalmists are deceived or lying when they assert that, as against their particular enemies at some particular moment, they are completely in the right. Their voices while they say so may grate harshly on our ear and suggest to us that they are an unamiable people. But ... to be wronged does not commonly make people amiable...
...room was large with wide windows "built for looking out to sea." Its walls were covered with books and a slow coal fire burned in the grate. Two oil lamps and a green-studded gas light gave all the illumination for the room. To the end, Copey refused electricity--no light bulbs, no telephone. Smoke black from the lamps discolored the ceiling and, it was claimed by those who knew, an old-fashioned tub lay under Copey's bed. His abode was a landmark even from the outside; a yellow sponge dangled from his window by a string, the butt...
...does not contain its own "key." Poems about Thomas Mann's creations should be confined to the margins of his books. Yet, Nash's poem is the most lyrical work I have read in the Advocate in a long time. Tricks like "mild feet" or "hair lit to lightning" grate on the mind's eye, but most of the words do their work well...