“Whenever they try to take hold of life a man intervenes. How long wilt thou forget me, O Lord? for ever? How long wilt thou hide thy face from me? She came upon the Song of Songs—which had been pasted down in the Enschede Bible—the burning litany of love; and from time to time she intoned some verse of tender lyric beauty. She had found a couple of articles about him over the years, blurbs about the opening of a theater that mentioned him. ‘All right, Trodger.
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