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Reading the classic Mark Twain novel again sparks some reflection on how we use language today.
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The mist, the fight over a reservation and the realization that a relationship had run its course.
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I probably shouldn’t admit this, but I have a security blanket. I suspect that most of us do.
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Freedom of speech, while guaranteed in the Constitution, was not encouraged in my home when I was growing up.
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Nobody stopped to ask the man about his politics, his religion, his ethnic background. We all just helped.
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One morning last summer, I walked out to the alley behind my house and noticed several diamonds lying in the dirt.
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A rough recording session followed by the reassurance of geese..
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Why is it, I wonder, that a long, slow climb is so much more difficult than a short, steep climb?