America's Homers are the hags and Haggadists who hagiolatrously spend their time haggling over National Poets, National Epics, The Canon as background noise for their dinners. Their work will last until the death of this nation.
Already, when Walt Whitman is brought up, the American says, "Wasn't that guy gay?" But mention "The Canon" and he is ready to talk at length. Names fly out of his mouth rapidly. Goodreads, Letterboxd, and Rate Your Music will live on.
When speaking, try to do more than reflexively jump to the most popular association of any thing or person or concept that is brought up for the chuckling approval of those who are similarly inattentive. You may wish to be a parasite, but you are a man.
There's a cannon on display at Yorktown that was damaged during the Revolutionary War. According to the story, Lafayette recognized it upon his return and wept.
I tear up thinking about the Marquis de Lafayette's return tour of the United States. He saw that President James Monroe was in plain clothes and that the White House was unguarded and knew that he had fought for a worthy cause. He kissed five year old Walt Whitman on the cheek.
I laughed when I realised Piero had populated this scene with a single face seen from six angles. It's like watching him put rhythm to death with one clean stroke. Bravo, executioner!
Because of the World Cup, there is more content about hotels, which are made to give you a comfortable bed and a hot shower with strong water pressure, than ever before.
There is a long portion of this tunnel (the "Tunnel of Death") with no lights but the headlights of vehicles and at one point three goats appeared out of the darkness.
There is a long portion of this tunnel (the "Tunnel of Death") with no lights but the headlights of vehicles and at one point three goats appeared out of the darkness.