id	author	title	date	pages	extension	mime	words	sentences	flesch	summary	cache	txt
chapter-234		chapter-234			.txt	text/plain	247	10	81	Miracles Why, who makes much of a miracle? As to me I know of nothing else but miracles, Whether I walk the streets of Manhattan, Or dart my sight over the roofs of houses toward the sky, Or talk by day with any one I love, or sleep in the bed at night with any one I love, Or sit at table at dinner with the rest, Or look at strangers opposite me riding in the car, Or birds, or the wonderfulness of insects in the air, Or the wonderfulness of the sundown, or of stars shining so quiet These with the rest, one and all, are to me miracles, To me every hour of the light and dark is a miracle, Every cubic inch of space is a miracle, To me the sea is a continual miracle, What stranger miracles are there?	./cache/chapter-234.txt	./txt/chapter-234.txt