The love of our neighbour is the only door out of the dungeon of self, where we mope and mow, striking sparks, and rubbing phosphorescence out of the walls, and blowing our own breath in our own nostrils, instead of issuing to the fair sunlight of God, the sweet winds of the universe.
All winter long, I am one for whom the bell is tolling; I can arouse no interest in basketball, Indoor fly casting or bowling; The sports pages are strictly no soap! And until the cry Play Ball! I simply mope.
Create and save customized flash cards. Sign up today and start improving your vocabulary!