Category Archives: All That I Love

Hopkins’ Spring

Spring Nothing is so beautiful as Spring–– When weeds, in wheels, shoot long and lovely and lush; Thrush’s eggs look little low heavens, and thrush Through the echoing of timber does so rinse and wring The ear, it strikes like … Continue reading

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A Little Rustle, a Scurry, a Hop

This is the single most beautiful use of parentheses I have ever seen: Josephine repeated, ‘Cyril says his father is very fond of meringues.’ ‘Can’t hear,’ said old Colonel Pinner. And he waved Josephine away with his stick, then pointed … Continue reading

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