cleaning up so well (jones_casey) wrote,
cleaning up so well

  • Music:

time flies

saturday lxxxiii

i colapsed in my chair.

dear dairy, i only remember saying, "well, remember, ten o'clock. and dress up like a gentleman in hard luck," and his saying: "well, i hope i'm a gentleman, and the hard luck's no joke," and then i went away.

and now, dear dairy, i am in bed, and every time the telephone rings i have a chill. and in between times i drink ice-water and sneaze. how terrable a thing is love.

thus we had formed ourselves, and we were ready.

"you're like a man i used to meet,
who got one day so furious
in arguing, the simple heat
scorched both his slippers off his feet!"
i said "that's very curious!"

"well, it is curious, i agree,
and sounds perhaps like fibs:
but still it`s true as true can be -
as sure as your name`s tibbs," said he.
i said "my name's not tibbs."

"not tibbs!" he cried - his tone became
a shade or two less hearty -
"why, no," said i. "my proper name
is tibbets - " "tibbets?" "aye, the same."
"why, then you're not the party!"

with that he struck the board a blow
that shivered half the glasses.
"why couldn`t you have told me so
three quarters of an hour ago,
you prince of all the asses?

"to walk four miles through mud and rain,
to spend the night in smoking,
and then to find that it's in vain -
and i've to do it all again -
it's really too provoking!

the card at the right of the lower line represents the person or qualities that will reveal spiritual knowledge. the devil, when reversed: release from bondage. throwing off shackles. divorce. recognition of one's needs by another person. overcoming severe handicaps. the beginning of spiritual understanding.

"ah!" cried she, in french, "you speak my language as well as mr. rochester does: i can talk to you as i can to him, and so can sophie. she will be glad: nobody here understands her: madame fairfax is all english. sophie is my nurse; she came with me over the sea in a great ship with a chimney that smoked - how it did smoke! - and i was sick, and so was sophie, and so was mr. rochester. mr. rochester lay down on a sofa in a pretty room called the salon, and sophie and i had little beds in another place. i nearly fell out of mine; it was like a shelf. and mademoiselle - what is your name?"

"eyre - jane eyre."

"aire? bah! i cannot say it."

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