Shapes of the Infinite


The lines have passed between our family, now into the fourth edition of our scripted pages of matrimonial wording.  I’m not exactly certain where the original paragraph came from — my sister found it somewhere, for her friends, four years ago — about rings beginning as mere rocks in the ground. Today I turned the phrasing around, a little more purple perhaps, trying for something in Draft No. 4. And reading it now, clearly, I’ve been influenced by the narrations of Mr. McPhee, who I’ve been leaning on in the car for the last few weeks, drive by drive, parking my way through his elegant potions of non-fiction.

“They are beautiful shapes of the infinite, forged by nature and hard work.”


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