i always forget birthdays ---yesterday was the bicentennial of the births of the confederacy's greatest hero, gen. robert e. lee, and of the twisted edgar allen poe---for the 58th straight year, some one left Martel cognac and three red roses on Poe's grave in Baltimore---sure beats a vase of plastic carnations.
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tomitron
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1/20/2007 12:04:00 PM
Each of us is all the sums he has not counted: subtract us into nakedness and night again, and you shall see begin in Crete four thousand years ago the love that ended yesterday in Texas.
The seed of our destruction will blossom in the desert, the alexin of our cure grows by a mountain rock, and our lives are haunted by a Georgia slattern, because a London cutpurse went unhung. Each moment is the fruit of forty thousand years. The minute-winning days, like flies, buzz home to death, and every moment is a window on all time.
john northbrooke, c. 1570
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