The other Sunday I was in my office, and I heard an insistent tapping for about five minutes.
Mr Goldfinch wasn’t at all camera shy.
If he really wants to come to church, I suggested he look for the entrance the bats use.
Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore,
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
`’Tis some visitor,’ I muttered, `tapping at my chamber door –
Only this, and nothing more.’
I see birds, but no donate button. Whatsup wit dat?
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