Ever since Wordsworth’s 1804 “But trailing clouds of glory do we come/From God, who is our home” entered the LDS cultural consciousness via Conference talks

  On my mission in Puerto Rico, I had a companion who was an ex-pothead. To be clear, he never bragged about it or anything;

Listen, I don’t want no guff from you—because life is already so staggeringly capricious and unfair as it is, that on the ultra-rare occasions when

In the days before CDs and Auxiliary-jacks came standard, I recall having to hit the Seek button on the cassette-deck of my parent’s 1996 Ford Taurus in order to find the next song…

Before murder, I briefly considered opening the window and letting the bee bumble elsewhere, but saw the screen would keep it trapped.