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Last Train to Dixie, a collection of essays by Jack Trotter, was published last year by Shotwell Publishing, a Southern press presided over by the grand panjandrum of Southern historiography, Clyde Wilson.
Last Train to Dixie, a collection of essays by Jack Trotter, was published last year by Shotwell Publishing, a Southern press presided over by the grand panjandrum of Southern historiography, Clyde Wilson.
I wonder if the gentle reader has had occasion to remark that, first in middlebrow newspapers and now almost universally throughout the media, the paragraph is disappearing. As in all properly constructed, literary prose, the paragraph in the service of journalism once played the same role as the order of service does in church liturgy.
Of course the real interest in the question lies not in the grammatical confusion that partially obscures the meaning, but in the easy assumption that human suffering must be caused be caused by the sin of an individual himself or by the sins of his ancestors, whose guilt he has inherited.
In this first episode in a four part series, Jim Easton and Dr. Fleming talk about the First Book of Gulliver’s Travels and set the work in its historical context. The series is being offered as a gift to Charter Subscribers, and, when it is complete, the episodes will be made available at a small fee to non-charter subscribers and the general public.
All through my childhood, people around me – that is to say, in my parents’ social circle – spoke of “listening to the voices.”
I just paid $6.42 for gas out here in California. Because my car now has 140,000 miles on it, I had to switch to premium to stop the engine from “knocking.” Meat at the grocery costs 50 percent more than a year ago.
If transgenders cannot pose as women athletes, why can women athletes pose as males?
September 15th, the day of liberty for Independent Padania, dawns fair and warm. I hurry into the center of Olginate–a small village, now suburbanized like so much of Lombardia–where I board a bus with the the local leghisti.
Edward Gibbon’s Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire is a big book, six bulky volumes in all, but only two things about it have stayed with me after so many years. One is that I have not known a better English stylist, before or since, and so when I think of what Rome must have been in its glory, I think of Gibbon’s galleried prose. The other is the story he tells of Attila, king of the Huns, who boasted of never having had bread pass his lips.