the soul. I fail despite myself to bear that weight. O Come, O Come Emmanuel—when?—and ransom captive Israël. Purity of need slightly fed? Mightily I desire the resurrection of the body. Just to say that, to see the envoys passionate: average women and men recede, robes covering their navy suits. And their single, radiant voice (transfigured?) sings Rejoice Rejoice . . . AMANDA SULLIVAN BROKEN SKYLINE
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