Sublime

frippery.

truculent

To be human is to confuse a satisfying story with a meaningful one, and to mistake life for something huge with two legs.

Oak.

Each time, I’ve marveled at the logic and ease and length (181 words) of the sentence, the hard clausal steps that slowly mount (or is it descend?) to a grammatically wrong-footing conclusion—the dash’s flat fall where we might have expected a “then…” or “so…” I have wondered about the oddity of Woolf’s metaphors—the sentence is mostly made of meta

Peace, Walter Brueggemann

Wallace Stegner’s Crossing to Safety,