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"But, on
one side of the portal, and rooted almost at the threshold, was a wild rose-bush,
covered... with its delicate gems, which might be imagined to offer their fragrance and
fragile beauty..."
This rose-bush by a strange chance, has been kept alive in history... whether it had
merely survived out of the stern old wilderness, so long after the fall of the gigantic
pins and oaks that orginally overshadowed it... whether it had sprung up under the
footsteps of the sainted Ann Hutchinson as she entered the prison door... It may
serve, let us hope, to symobolize some sweet moral blossom, that may be found along the
track, or relieve the darkening close of a tale of human fraily and sorrow." |
"To
all who confront the peculiar physics of dogma, piety and self-rightousness..."
Glenn Kleier, The Last Day. |
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