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      <title>padlet the great gatsby by Will Griffin</title>
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      <pubDate>2016-03-08 15:00:57 UTC</pubDate>
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         <title>George</title>
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         <title>&quot;He was a blond, spiritless man, anæmic, and faintly handsome.&quot;</title>
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         <pubDate>2016-03-08 15:04:40 UTC</pubDate>
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         <title>&quot;When he saw us a damp gleam of hope sprang into his light blue eyes&quot;.</title>
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         <title>&quot;Wilson? He thinks she goes to see her sister in New York. He&#39;s so dumb he doesn&#39;t know he&#39;s alive.&quot;&amp;nbsp;</title>
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         <title>&quot;This is a valley of ashes — a fantastic farm where ashes grow like wheat into ridges and hills and grotesque gardens; where ashes take the forms of houses and chimneys and rising smoke and, finally, with a transcendent effort, of men who move dimly and already crumbling through the powdery air. &quot;</title>
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         <pubDate>2016-03-09 23:47:28 UTC</pubDate>
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         <title>Catherine</title>
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         <title>The sister, Catherine, was a slender, worldly girl of about thirty, with
 a solid, sticky bob of red hair, and a complexion powdered milky white.
 Her eye-brows had been plucked and then drawn on again at a more rakish
 angle, but the efforts of nature toward the restoration of the old 
alignment gave a blurred air to her face.</title>
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         <title>The bottle of whiskey — a second one — was now in constant demand by all
 present, excepting Catherine, who “felt just as good on nothing at 
all.”</title>
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         <pubDate>2016-03-10 00:07:50 UTC</pubDate>
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         <title>Catherine leaned close to me and whispered in my ear: “Neither of them can stand the person they’re married to.”</title>
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         <pubDate>2016-03-10 00:11:44 UTC</pubDate>
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         <title>Catherine</title>
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         <pubDate>2016-03-10 00:15:03 UTC</pubDate>
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         <title>The sister, Catherine, was a slender, worldly girl of about thirty, with
 a solid, sticky bob of red hair, and a complexion powdered milky white.
 Her eye-brows had been plucked and then drawn on again at a more rakish
 angle, but the efforts of nature toward the restoration of the old 
alignment gave a blurred air to her face.</title>
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         <title>The bottle of whiskey — a second one — was now in constant demand by all
 present, excepting Catherine, who “felt just as good on nothing at 
all.”</title>
         <author>gri044612</author>
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         <pubDate>2016-03-10 00:16:24 UTC</pubDate>
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         <title>Catherine leaned close to me and whispered in my ear: “Neither of them can stand the person they’re married to.”</title>
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         <pubDate>2016-03-10 00:16:52 UTC</pubDate>
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         <title></title>
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         <pubDate>2016-03-10 00:19:19 UTC</pubDate>
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         <title></title>
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