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“These times of ours are ordinary times, a slice of life like any other. Who can bear to hear this, or who will consider it? Though perhaps we are the last generation — now there’s a comfort. Take the bomb threat away and what are we? Ordinary beads on a never-ending string. Our time is a routine twist of an improbable yarn. We have no change of being here when the sun burns out. There must be something heroic about our time, something that lifts it above all those other times. Plague? Funny weather?
