Sublime

Bullet lodged in his thigh, and he was no doctor; nor was anything that lived in his wood. Well, there it was. He’d live or not. If he lived, he’d manage, and if he died, he’d die in the shadow of the old oak. Maybe it was time. He’d seen nearly four hundred summers come and go by now.

Harvey’s prize-winning azaleas.

the scent of your garments is like the scent of Lebanon.

So she took him for a walk in the bright sunlight and they were both caught and killed by the shrike’s brother, a shrike named Stoop. MORAL: Early to rise and early to bed makes a male healthy and wealthy and dead.

Irv Weissman’s home is about twenty minutes from Stanford University, hidden from the road by a tall stand of trees. Inside, the rooms are spacious, and the living room more so. The ceiling is high and broad-beamed; the furniture Western chic: chairs hewn from tree branches, tables built from tree trunks. Spread out in front of the fireplace is a

“Your words are like the hundred doves.” “Easy to release, difficult to keep,”