Owlish glasses magnify the seemingly perpetual expression of pained skepticism. The mouth is ever pursed in disapproval. The voice ranges in timbre from the crackle of dried twigs under a hostile foot to the rasp of fingernails across a blackboard. Along with these qualities Lawrence E. Spivak conveys the agility of a mongoose awaiting the right moment to strike a superior adversary and the assurance of a man who knows everything worth knowing about the topic at hand. This Sunday, when he clears his throat, adjusts the pillow seat that makes him look...
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