part of a bradford pear fell over on fourteenth street a while ago---scraped one car a little and blocked three lanes of traffic---everybody waiting on the po-lice
i hope they cut down all of those there in front of the playhouse----they are sorry trees, as this one has demonstrated: no wind or anything and it just fell over----
Posted by
tomitron
at
6/23/2008 08:31:00 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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