A SENTENCE BY ROBERT BENCHLEY
‘It would be impossible to stoop all about the cellar picking up the vagrant pieces that had flown away, even if the blow of the shovel against the furnace had not temporarily paralyzed your hand and caused you to devote your entire attention to the coining of new and descriptive pictures.’
This fine sentence takes place after a shovel of coal has been thrust unsuccessfully toward the open door of the furnace in the essay “Thoughts on Fuel Saving’.
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