Maynard used to help before he got sick, but there was no income except what I brought in my allotment.
This understanding wisdom began to be written in ciphers and characters and letters bearing the forms of creatures.
The box lunch always contained enough for a crew of nine: three loaves of bread, a pound of American cheese, a pound of mystery meat (usually something that resembled salami), one jar of smooth peanut butter, one jar of grape jelly, two dozen small bags of airline peanuts (or, occasionally, rock-hard raisins), a dozen boxes of cranberry juice (or cranapple, crangrape, or the like), condiments, and dessert.
[The dome was] turned upon a centre laid without any standard from below to support it. Every story of the scaffolding being circular, and the ends of the ledgers meeting as so many rings, and truly wrought, it supported itself; […]
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