I started reading the big histories and the small histories, the memoirs and so forth. At some point, I found the diary of William E. Dodd.

I started reading the big histories and the small histories, the memoirs and so forth. At some point, I found the diary of William E. Dodd.

Leaves hung in the stillness like hands of the newly dead.

No one cared what St. Louis thought, although the city got a wink for pluck.

Time lost can never be recovered...and this should be written in flaming letters everywhere.

I was never concretely aware of the extent of anti-Semitism in the United States and in the upper levels of the State Department.

Reading Mission to Paris is like sipping a fine Chateau Margaux: Sublime!