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Abstract

I never knew Cardozo intimately. I read most of his opinions and all of his books; and I heard him lecture. My personal association with him, however, was limited. When he came to Washington, D. C., he lived in rather lonely isolation. I visited with him occasionally in his apartment where we talked about trivial, as well as philosophical, things. He was a gentle-almost self-effacing-man. Yet he had a mind with as keen a cutting edge as any I ever knew.

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