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

  • Music:

i never know what to do when i get to the last tree!

further proof of the universal orchestrator:

alas! my lord, it is not so.
if thou wouldst sleep awhile,
all would be well.

sleep from mine eyes is gone,
and my heart faileth me for very care.
dost thou remember, philip, the old fable
told us when we were boys, in which the bear
going for honey overturns the hive,
and is stung blind by bees? i am that beast,
stung by the persian swarms of elymais.

when thou art come again to antioch
these thoughts will be as covered and forgotten
as are the tracks of pharaoh's chariot-wheels
in the egyptian sands.

ah! when i come
again to antioch! when will that be?
alas! alas!


they are also the most obstinate and perverse of mankind. it had taken him the best part of his youth to get boots made as they should be made. he would have her observe (he lifted his right foot and then his left) that she had never seen boots made quite that shape before. they were made of the finest leather in the world, also. most leather was mere brown paper and cardboard. he looked complacently at his foot, still held in the air. they had reached, she felt, a sunny island where peace dwelt, sanity reigned and the sun for ever shone, the blessed island of good boots. her heart warmed to him. "now let me see if you can tie a knot," he said. he poohpoohed her feeble system. he showed her his own.


this consciousness of dignity lasts me more than three days, and not until the fourth or fifth day do i come to my senses and know where i am; in the meantime i have been living in the islands of blest.


thursday night began much like the others, but it ended less happily. the whippoorwills in the glen had screamed with such unusual persistence that many could not sleep, and about 3 a.m. all the party telephones rang tremulously.


sunday xci

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