Sinclair Lewis

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Winter is not a season, it's an occupation

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The Maker of the universe with stars a hundred thousand light-years apart was interested, furious, and very personal about it if a small boy played baseball on Sunday afternoon

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Whatever the misery, he could not regain contentment with a world which, once doubted, became absurd

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So much in a revolution is nothing but waiting

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I was feeling rational and restless, which is horrible for watching movies