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I’m at a conference right now. I’ve been in meetings all day.  I don’t have much to say, but what I do have is worth plenty.  Consider this passage in Delta Wedding

Uncle George, the youngest of the older ones, who stood in–who was–the very heart of the family, who was like them, looked like them (only by far, she thought, seeing at once his picnic smile, handsomer)–he was different, somehow.  Perhaps the heart always was made of different stuff and had a different life from the rest of the body.

Indeed.

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