A week now. Watching the news, reading accounts like Luminosity's by people whose city New Orleans is, anything I could say feels pathetic and falling short. So I'll borrow a letter George Bernard Shaw wrote on January 7th, 1918, to Stella Patrick Campbell, whom he was in love with, when he heard that her only son had been killed in action.
Never
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How true indeed. And you do not even have to go as far as Tritin did: I have heard a report claiming that there had been warnings that this catastrophe could happen in New Orleans for years and virtually nobody cared.
But on a completely different note: Have the class test I sent you, arrived?
Frank
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I have nothing left to say about the President.
I have no words left. Thank you for posting GBS's.
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