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Saturday, December 04, 2004

Slow creeping shadows 

The hungry sheep look up, and are not fed,
But swoln with wind and the rank mist they draw,
Rot inwardly, and foul contagion spread:
Besides what the grim wolf with privy paw,
Daily devours apace, and nothing said;
(Milton)

If that last sentence doesn't send a chill down your spine, you're dead. - Charles2 at The Fulcrum

I could never before imagine reading something like this about my country: [continue reading...] Fascism by Degrees


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