So I blew out my autumn-scented candle, trotted past my plastic wreath, hopped over the mini-pumpkins and marched into my nearest Starbucks, where I ordered up a tall (read: small!) Pumpkin Spice Latte.
In this innings he just stayed in the tall grass, reading a bloody book or something.
TALL signs reading "Now Leasing" are popping up above the greenery along Interstate 684 where it cuts through the rural landscape of eastern Westchester.
GOOD issues a tall order: read a book.
Now the academy's sign, which is four stories tall and reads "ART" in red neon letters, casts its light into new condominiums.
The tall one reads Thomas Merton's "Thoughts in Solitude" — yes, now he looks like a monk, his tonsured cap, his measured movements — the other, Eckhart Tolle's "The Power of Now: A Guide to Spiritual Enlightenment" — he's only halfway through the book; is he there yet?
The tall one reads Thomas Merton's "Thoughts in Solitude"—yes, now he looks like a monk, his tonsured cap, his measured movements the other, Eckhart Tolle's "The Power of Now: A Guide to Spiritual Enlightenment"—he's only halfway through the book; is he there yet?
Meanwhile, I'll just have to keep looking for that tall, handsome, man reading Middlemarch on the train.
While reading "The Tall, Green New Yorkers" (Weekend, Sept. 13), which so affirmingly noted that "more than five million trees share space with New York's skyscrapers," I immediately thought that such an enduring symbol of life would make a particularly apt memorial to those who lost their lives on Sept. 11.
After seeing or reading such tall tales does anyone watch the skies more carefully for hostile UFOs, or in any way worry more that the end is nigh?
