In case the print is too small for your deteriorating vision to discern, that tiny part you can't read is Fr. Richard Rohr singing the praises of this work of literature.
Thanks, but no thanks. I had my fill of aging hippies with breathy voices and dead brain cells advocating disembodied spiritualities when they turned me into a homeless person. Although, if any of my readership wants it, I think I still have the box it came in...
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